Recklessness & Repercussions
by Nothing But Bones
Summary: Booth overhears one of his colleagues crudely reliving an intimate rendezvous with Brennan, and his ill-conceived reaction threatens to end their partnership on a permanent basis, leaving their emotions running dangerously high.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I'm branching out from my usual hurt/comfort genre and trying something new, but I promise you, it's going to be a roller-coaster ride of high-octane emotion and although you may need some tissues (and possibly a barf bag - you'll know why once you've read this chapter), I promise the ending will be worth it. You might even get some smut thrown into the mix, seems as though the response to 'Searching For Salvation' was so amazing (thank you all for your encouragement, incidentally).**_

_**This story aims to address several issues that have pissed me off immensely during Season 4. Just to recap: in Season 2, the jealousy angle was tried and tested to the point where Brennan ultimately made the decision to forsake her relationship with Sully to continue working alongside Booth, and her anguish at Sully's departure was visibly alleviated by Booth's promise that "everything happens eventually." Then, for the whole of Season 3, B&B were celibate and we shippers were left to bask in the afterglow of all those long and lingering looks (usually found at the conclusion of every episode). We were led to believe that B&B had secretly acknowledged their love for one another, and therefore didn't have any interest in dating people who were frankly substandard. **_

_**Then, Season 4 arrives and the writers have inexplicably decided to create multiple 'romantic interests' for Brennan. We feel a surge of hope when she tells Ian Wexler that she doesn't want to sleep with him because it will "upset Booth," and heave a sigh of relief when Booth politely rejects Pritch's advances. Then, Mark and Jason arrive on the scene and the honest and straightforward Brennan is made to look like a duplicitous hypocrite by dating both of them simultaneously. **_

_**I try to stay true to canon, so this story will deal with Brennan's possible motivations for pursuing other guys when the love of her life is waiting patiently on her doorstep and dropping hints about his feelings left, right and centre… as well as the effect her apparent cluelessness has on Booth; and why he should even be willing to hand her his heart, knowing that he could potentially be just another notch on the bedpost of someone who purportedly STILL doesn't believe in love and monogamy (despite the fact that Bones seemed thoroughly enamoured by the idea in 'Death in the Saddle'). That said, I'm not trying to lay the blame solely at Brennan's feet, and I'll also be delving into her perspectives about her relationship with Booth and his tendency to send mixed messages. **_

_**This story is NOT about perpetuating the double standards between the sexes and suggesting that Brennan doesn't have the right to pursue multiple sexual partners, it's about Brennan coming to terms with the fact that she is worth a hell of a lot more than a 'fuck buddy' - even one who can hold his breath for three minutes 'down there' - can provide. I'm going to satisfy her biological urges once and for all: not personally, you understand, although given the opportunity... **_

_**Note to self - stop offending people's sensibilities LOL.**_

_**Anyhow, I think that was possibly the longest intro I've ever written. I hope I didn't bore you. I just wanted to outline my reasons for delving into a realm I usually wouldn't touch with a barge pole. **_

_**Please read and review :-)**_

* * *

Agent Brad Dennison was a guy who liked an audience, and right now he was the centre of attention. The FBI locker room was the ideal venue for boasting about your sexual conquests, and although he was pretty sure that he wasn't the only one to have gotten laid last night, there was a reason why everyone was so willing to give him the floor.

"So I see her in that little black dress, and I'm thinking that someone must have been feeding Booth bromide tablets for the last four years or something, because there is no way – _no fucking way_ – that he's managed to resist jumping that for so long. I mean, she's hot as all hell, right?"

Several heads nodded in enthusiastic agreement, and Brad grinned. Universal approval was a wonderful thing; awe was even better.

"So I take her to Nolita's, because I'm out to impress, but after three hours of listening to all of that anthropological mumbo-jumbo, I'm starting to think that maybe Booth has the right idea after all. I mean, I've had lunch dates with her a few times before, but that was for like forty minutes tops. This was a whole new ball game. Seriously guys, you have no idea how much of a mood-killer all that death and decay can be. The broad just doesn't know when to call it quits. I don't know how Booth can stand to listen to that shit 24/7."

His assertion was greeted with a mixed bag of amused snorts and raucous laughter, and Brad was more than pleased to see that the crowd around him was growing exponentially.

"So I'm sitting there, right, bored out of my skull, and all I can think about is how much the meal is gonna cost me, because trust me, that woman knows how to bleed a man dry. She ordered the most expensive wine on the menu! But then she leans forwards to get out of her chair and says she's going to powder her nose or something, but hell, it's not like I was even listening because suddenly, those puppies are staring me right in the face, begging for attention. And let me tell you now, that woman is _stacked_. Then she's strutting off towards the restroom, and man, that ass… those legs… it was like a wake up call, right? I'm sat there thinking to myself 'Brad, what the hell is wrong with you? You cannot blow off this fine piece of ass just because she's a bit of a freak… at least not when she's ready and willing to get freaky with you.'"

Brad paused, checking to see whether his fellow Agents were showing an appropriate degree of appreciation for his innovative pun. They were.

"And was she, Dennison?" Agent Brian Robinson hollered from the back of the room, grinning lasciviously. "Ready and willing, I mean?"

"Well, that's for me to know and you to find out!" Brad was determined to make his moment of glory last for as long as possible, and relished the groans of disappointment that ensued. "OK, OK!" he conceded, though he had clearly always had the intention of continuing. "Come on guys, have some patience. I'm getting to the good stuff."

"All right, so at this point, I would have gladly cleared out my bank account if it meant I was going to reap the rewards, but you know what the best part was? She wouldn't let me foot the bill! She insisted on going Dutch, and hell, I wasn't going to complain."

"So she wound up being a pretty cheap date after all, then?" Agent Colin Fitzpatrick quipped, and Brad wiggled his eyebrows up and down in response.

"Oh man, you have _no idea_." Brad's shit-eating grin widened still further. "Let me tell you now, that woman does not beat around the bush. She invited me back to her apartment and I was expecting the usual lame spiel, you know, 'would you like to come up for coffee' or something crappy like that, but get this… she starts jabbering on about my 'exemplary musculature' and how 'symmetrical' my features are, and I'm like 'what the fuck is this bitch on,' you know? And the next thing I know, she's pulling me into her apartment and muttering something about 'satisfying her biological urges' and then the dress, her panties… everything's gone, and she's just standing there, stark fucking naked, waiting for me to make a move."

Agent Freddy Sinclair led the myriad of catcalls that followed. "Well, we all know she's not backwards in coming forwards," he wisecracked, and all of the Agents who had encountered the irrepressible Dr Brennan in a work-related capacity snickered accordingly.

"So… was it good for you, Brad?" Agent Robinson enquired, utilising a sardonically effeminate tone.

"It was the weirdest fucking experience of my life." Brad shook his head in amazement. "I mean, we all know the ladies love me, right? And I really thought she was going to be the best ride of my life. I mean, she has the body of a fucking movie star, and God, that woman can kiss. You would not believe the things she can do with her tongue, and she has the most suckable tits I've ever seen. I mean, seriously guys, they're perfect. I've never been that hard in my life."

Brad paused for a moment, gathering his composure so the bittersweet memories wouldn't manifest themselves physically. He cast a sweeping glance over his rapt audience, and realised he was the only buoy in a sea of envy. His grin widened still further.

"I'm not ashamed to admit it, guys, all I wanted to do was fuck her brains out, but I'm a gentleman, right? So I start with the foreplay and I'm giving it my best shot - all the stuff that usually drives the girls wild, and she's telling me where to put my hands, what she likes…. and I'm wondering where the hell I'm going wrong, because I'm doing everything she's asking for, but other than barking out orders, she isn't making a sound. Not so much as a fucking squeak. And a guy needs some encouragement, right?" He waited for the crowd to offer their consensus before continuing.

"So I start to go down on her, thinking it might get her warmed up, and the next thing I know she's fucking pulling my hair and yanking me back up again. And then she tells me she 'doesn't like men performing oral sex on her' because it's 'too intimate!' Like me shoving my dick inside her is completely impersonal or something! I mean, have you ever heard anything like it?" Brad let out a derisive snort, and was pleased to hear it echo throughout the room. "But hey, who am I to argue, right? My tongue was fucking glad of the reprieve. And then the next thing I know, I'm flat on my back and she's riding me like a thoroughbred racehorse, tits bouncing everywhere, and she's so fucking tight I can hardly stand the friction. But the worse thing is, I'm watching her face, trying to get a read on whether she's close, and I can't even tell if she's enjoying it or not, because her expression… it was just completely blank, man. It was like she was dead behind the eyes or something. It freaked me the hell out. But then she finally let out this whispery kind of moan, and I knew something must have clicked, because no sooner had I finished cumming, she's climbing off me and collapsing onto the bed."

"So she's a bona fide Ice Queen, right?" Agent Tyler McManus ventured, hoping his cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt.

"And then some," Brad confirmed. "And I haven't told you the best bit yet. I try to put my arm around her, thinking she might expect some post-coital coddling or something, and she just gets up, slings on her robe, and tells me to leave! I was fucking offended, and I told her as much, and then she just gave me this dazzling smile and told me I was welcome to stop by tonight if I wanted to."

"And are you?" Agent Robinson demanded, giving his colleague a sly wink. "Because if you don't, I might!"

Brad shrugged regretfully. "Sorry man, I got first dibs, and I plan to keep her on tap until a better model comes along." He grinned proudly. "She's definitely good for a few more fucks. In fact…"

Brad promptly trailed off as he realised the crowd had started to part down the middle, and he couldn't bring himself to contemplate the cause of the ominous silence that had suddenly descended. His worst fears were confirmed as he caught sight of a glowering Agent Booth advancing towards him and, realising his unassuming smile was having little effect, Brad turned and attempted to flee in the opposite direction. The other Agents, sensing what was about to unfold, tried to block Booth's progress by extending placating hands in his general direction, murmuring ineffective platitudes such as 'he's not worth it,' and 'let it go, Booth,' but their efforts were in vain. Booth forcibly pushed them aside, easily thwarting Brad's attempt to escape by placing his imposing physique directly in the path of the apprehensive Agent, whose eyes immediately widened in consternation.

Brad figured that he'd better start talking fast. "Come on, Booth, don't look at me like that. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear. It's just guy talk, I – "

The first punch, a blistering right hook, landed with a sickening crack, promptly breaking Brad's perfect Roman nose. Blood spattered everywhere, and the deluge only intensified when the second punch robbed the handsome Agent of his two front teeth. They went skittering across the tiled floor, accompanied by an agonised whimper. Wanting to save face in front of the sizeable crowd, Brad nevertheless made a valiant effort to fight back, but his defensive blocks and desperate punches were effortlessly evaded until he was finally felled by a migraine-inducing headbutt.

Brad crumpled to the ground, and Booth levelled a devastating kick to his midsection, but despite the debilitating impact, it still wasn't as forceful as the former Ranger had intended it to be – by this point, three Agents were attempting to haul him away from his gasping quarry.

Booth, however, was like a man possessed, and he continued to ignore their attempts to forcibly pacify him, bringing his cumbersome work boot crashing down onto Brad's vulnerable groin, determined to eliminate the source of his chauvinism. The inhuman howl that ensued still wasn't enough to satiate his bloodlust, and it took another three Agents to successfully restrain him. They regarded him warily, as though he had temporarily lost his sanity, but by this point, Booth was spitting venom.

"Listen to me, you worthless piece of shit. If I _ever_ hear you talking that way about my partner again, I will fucking kill you. You got that?" He glared at Brad with such feral intensity that the groaning Agent briefly wondered whether being physically pummelled was preferable to this kind of psychological browbeating. Booth looked unhinged, and if there hadn't been so many witnesses to speak in his favour, Brad might have been tempted to relinquish control of his bladder. He breathed a sigh of relief when the crowd once again parted, this time revealing the welcome – but decidedly irate face of Deputy Director Sam Cullen.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Cullen bellowed, his well-trained eyes hastily surveying the situation. Taking in Brad's bloodied appearance and the fact that it was taking six Agents to contain an overwrought and flushed Booth, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had transpired.

"You two – " He gestured to Agent Fitzpatrick and Agent McManus, "Pick him up off the floor and get him to the hospital." They hesitated for a moment, and Cullen wasted no time in invading their personal space. "RIGHT NOW," he roared, and they snapped into action, gingerly retrieving their battered colleague from the far corner of the room and supporting his flagging weight between them.

"And you…" Cullen's voice had dropped to a dangerously low timbre as he pointed a shaking finger at Agent Booth. "In my office. _Now._"

* * *

_**(Cue drumroll) The next chapter will be up tomorrow. Please let me know your thoughts in the meantime!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_All I can say is a heartfelt, 'WOW.' I've been overwhelmed by your feedback thus far, and thank you to everyone who took the time to review the first chapter. I hope you'll continue to send me your thoughts on future instalments, and with any luck, this one won't disappoint. I'm trying to juggle writing Chapter 3 with managing my responses, so if you don't hear from me immediately, I promise I'll be in touch shortly. _**

**_So, for all of you on the other side of the pond who are just crawling out of bed, hopefully Monday's instalment will be worth waking up for :-)_**

* * *

After a lot of aimless wandering, a dishevelled Booth stood on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue, trying to flag down a taxi. Apparently, it was a lot harder than it looked. He felt strangely off centre without his duty belt and gun holster, but it was the absence of the weapon itself that struck him as being the most conspicuous; the most disconcerting. When he was with the Rangers, Booth's M14 rifle had accompanied him everywhere, to the extent that it had become such a fundamental part of his existence that he felt naked when he wasn't wielding it. Thankfully, he hadn't had cause to test its lethal capabilities very often, but his M24 SWS was another story entirely. The sniper rifle had wreaked enough destruction to last a lifetime. It troubled Booth to realise that, as far as he had supposedly come, he still felt dangerously exposed when he wasn't brandishing his fair share of firepower. What kind of man did that make him?

Finally, a yellow cab ground to a halt in front of the curb, and Booth snapped out of his melancholy reverie to jump in before any of the other passers-by could requisition his ride. As he sank into the worn back seat, strategically avoiding the more prominent stains and trying to ignore the stench that was poorly masked by the oppressive air freshener, the realisation of what had just unfolded finally hit him.

A sense of barely repressed anger was still making his blood boil, and he saw the cab driver spare him a wary glance through the rear-view mirror. He tried to keep his tone light as he relayed his destination, but his bruised fists had yet to unfurl. Booth had never been the type to kiss and tell, but he knew that his colleagues didn't share his sense of discretion. It had never bothered him before, but Brad's crude and gratuitous exposition had shaken him to the core, and a part of him was consumed with guilt for not having intervened sooner. The guys who witnessed the altercation would undoubtedly attest to the fact that he had been defending his partner's honour, but what they didn't know was that he had been loitering in the doorway for over five minutes before finally deciding to make a stand. Booth felt his cheeks burn with shame as he realised that morbid curiosity had kept him fixed to the spot, paralysed by his vested interest in the subject matter. He had listened to that bastard denigrating Bones for far too long, because a sadistic part of him was desperate to know exactly what he'd been missing - and Brad had made sure that he was enlightened in excruciating detail.

Fragments of Dennison's lewd foray into self-promotion kept assailing him, feeding his imagination, but making him feel nauseous in the process. His head felt like it was going to explode as he tried to will back the images of his partner's 'suckable tits' and 'movie-star body,' and he tried desperately hard not to wonder what it might feel like to be on the receiving end of Bones' reportedly very deft tongue. His heart, however, felt like it was breaking as he recalled Dennison's allusions to her blank face and deadened eyes, her aversion to intimacy, her need to push people away. It was apparent that sex really was just a form of release for her and he had to fight back tears when he considered that his partner was so painfully unaware of her own worth; willing to settle for the meaningless when she patently deserved the meaningful, oblivious to the fact that she was being mercilessly exploited in the process.

The fact that he was out of a job barely crossed his mind.

"_Oh God,"_ he murmured, ignoring the sharp, but bewildered look he received from the cab driver. He was torn between the need to hunt down Brad Dennison and finish what he'd started and the almost irrepressible urge to seek out his partner and hug her until she acknowledged what it felt like to be held by someone who really cared.

As it turned out, the powers-that-be had apparently decided to resolve his dilemma for him. He sighed as he saw Bones' overpriced car parked outside of his apartment complex and, realising that the desire for confrontation was the only thing liable to have dragged her away from the lab this early in the evening, Booth debated the merits of fleeing in the opposite direction. He rapidly decided against it when the cab driver announced just how much of a dent the fare was going to make in his wallet. Booth ruefully acknowledged that he was going to have to start learning the bus routes; not that he had anywhere to go anymore.

He mounted the stairs in a dilatory manner; feeling as though he was heading towards his own funeral and - sure enough - any thoughts of embracing his partner faded into obscurity as he nervously observed her livid expression. Bones' usually full lips were pursed into a thin line, her tempestuous eyes were dark and narrowed with antipathy and her brow was marred by a prominent frown. Ire was emanating from every inch of her rigid frame, and she was clearly poised to strike.

"What is your problem?" she spat out as soon as his presence registered in her peripheral vision, and then suddenly Booth, too, was angry. Angry that this woman had the capacity to inspire such conflicting emotions within him, angry that the mere thought of her being mistreated could make him lapse into a violent rage that was so consuming, he lost the ability to recognise when he was in danger of losing everything.

Not trusting himself to speak, he pushed past her, unlocking his door and trying to conceal the fact that his hands were shaking in the process. Even now, he was too chivalrous to slam it in her face, so she stomped in after him, folding her arms. He tried not to notice how the gesture enhanced her ample cleavage. He'd leave the ogling to misogynistic assholes like Dennison.

"Booth, I'm asking you a question," Brennan informed him tartly, sounding like a disgruntled kindergarten teacher, "Because I think it's about time you realised that you have absolutely no claim to my private life. Who I see outside of work is my own business, and you have no right to interfere in any capacity." Her voice seemed to raise a decibel with every word and she began to gesticulate wildly. "And yet, for some incomprehensible reason, you actively seek to sabotage my relationships."

"You know what, Bones? If you think what you had with that asshole was anything remotely resembling a relationship, then there's something seriously wrong with you." Blood was starting to rush to Booth's throbbing temples, and he massaged them ferociously in a bid to soothe away some of the mounting tension.

"That's besides the point, Booth. You don't get to make judgements about who I choose to see, because frankly, it isn't any of your concern." Brennan's glare was increasing in intensity. "First you subject David to an unnecessarily stringent interrogation, then you make a nuisance of yourself until I'm forced to forego my vacation with Sully. You insisted on interrupting my date with Jason to relay information that was - to be perfectly honest - negligible, and then you went out of your way to make him feel uncomfortable." A pulsating vein appeared in the middle of Brennan's forehead as she prepared to reach the climax of her furious rant. "And then, to top it all off, I call Brad to notify him that I'm planning on working late, and another Agent picks up the phone and informs me that he's having to stay overnight in the Emergency Room because you took it upon yourself to act like a common thug."

Booth's ill-conceived smirk was too much provocation for Brennan to handle. She stepped forwards until they were toe-to-toe, studying him intently.

"Booth, it's not funny," she informed him quietly, genuine distress working its way into her tone. "Do you realise that you broke his nose? I mean, he has a concussion, for God's sake, and it's going to cost him a small fortune to get his teeth fixed because his insurance company won't pay for cosmetic procedures." When her partner's expression failed to register an iota of remorse, she seized him by the shoulders, shaking him violently. "What is _wrong_ with you?" she demanded, staring at a face she no longer recognised.

Booth continued to evade eye contact and Brennan shook her head in disbelief. There was a moment of quietude as she actively sought to bring her erratic breathing under control, but any hopes Booth had of a reprieve were rapidly crushed when she suddenly roared, "Will you please answer me? Because I'd really like to know what the hell you were thinking?"

"I was thinking…" Booth began, his jaw visibly twitching, "About the roomful of Agents who are going to go home tonight and jerk off at your expense." His expression was dripping with disdain as he forcibly extricated himself from Brennan's vice-like grip.

"What do you mean?" Bones enquired, her tone steeped in bewilderment.

"I mean that your new boyfriend likes to talk about what you get up to after hours," Booth informed her, somewhat scathingly, "In graphic detail, and to anyone who's willing to listen."

To his surprise, Brennan started to laugh.

"Booth, surely you must know by now that alpha males are prone to boasting of their sexual conquests?" she stated, somewhat derisively. "Throughout history, it's been one of the many ways in which they assert dominance over a social group. A desirable woman may be coveted by many men, but the alpha male who wins her affections is afforded the most respect. It's perfectly natural for a man to exaggerate his sexual prowess," she concluded, her lips quirking slightly, "but I can assure you, in Brad's case the hyperbole is more than warranted."

Booth's jaw dropped open as he observed his partner's shit-eating grin. "Oh, well, I guess I should be apologising then, Bones," he ground out, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You see, I thought you might object to having the ins and outs of your anatomy discussed in a public forum. I didn't realise that being treated like some kind of trophy would appeal to your ego."

Brennan frowned. "It doesn't. I didn't say I approve of such behaviour, Booth. It's very immature, and somewhat uncouth. But I certainly don't need you to defend my honour."

Booth wanted to tell his partner that she was being painfully naïve, but knowing how much damage regaling Brad's hurtful words could do to her, he just couldn't bring himself to disclose all of the sordid details. "Bones, just trust me on this one, the guy is bad news, OK? He's just looking to get laid."

Brennan pretended to look thoughtful. "It's interesting you should mention that, Booth, because that's precisely what you said to deter me from sleeping with Ian Wexler, before you concluded that he was actually a very nice man."

Booth shook his head vehemently. "No, Bones. This isn't the same." He regarded her beseechingly. "Brad is a real piece of work, OK? I mean, compared to him, Ian may as well have been a monk."

Brennan regarded him amusedly. "So what you're essentially trying to tell me is that Brad is notorious for having a plethora of sexual partners?" When Booth nodded, she shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, that certainly helps to explain his impressive technique. Although we used protection, so I fail to see why it should be an issue."

Booth kicked his cupboard door closed, watching it shake on its hinges. "Damn it, Bones, don't you think you deserve better than that? You shouldn't be one in a long line of many, OK? You should be the only one in the fucking queue."

"Why?" Brennan mocked, her lips curling into something vaguely resembling a sneer. "Because I'm 'special?'"

That did it. Booth's anger was no longer merely simmering, it had reached boiling point and was in the process of bubbling over. "You know what, Bones? I'm officially past caring. Go and whore yourself out to every Tom, Dick and Harry. I won't say another fucking word." If he hadn't been so furious, he might have noticed the stricken look on his partner's face. "You can use them, they can use you, and next time one of my colleagues is telling a locker room full of guys what a thoroughly good fuck you are - even if you are emotionally frigid - I'll just join in the catcalls, OK?"

Brennan's eyes were starting to fill with tears. "I never had you pegged for a misogynist, Booth. Just because I don't conform to your priggish Catholic ideals about marriage and commitment - just because I'm assertive enough to know what I want and I'm not afraid to ask for it, you think you have the right to insinuate that I'm behaving like a prostitute?"

"That is NOT what I meant, and you know it," Booth said quietly, seizing his partner's arm. "Bones…" he sighed, regarding her earnestly, "I just want you to be happy, that's all."

Brennan's expression was steeped in incredulity. "I'd be a hell of a lot happier if you stopped judging me and my taste in men, Booth. I've always lived my life on my own terms, and the sooner you realise that, the better." Her eyes flashed with anger. "Because I'm not sure if I can tolerate a partner who wants to preside over every facet of my existence."

That was a low blow, and Booth didn't stomach it in a very sportsmanlike manner. "Well then, you'll be ecstatic to hear that I'm not going to be around much anymore."

Something akin to fear briefly registered on Brennan's features. "Stop talking in riddles, Booth. What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ that I got suspended without pay, OK? And I very much doubt that they're going to take me back, because as we both know, this isn't the first time I've lost my head on the job." Booth saw the shock and concern on his partner's face, but chose to ignore it in favour of delivering one last jibe. "So, if you'd like me to butt out of your life on a permanent basis, Bones, that can be easily arranged. I mean, I wouldn't want you to feel obliged to 'have coffee' with me or anything."

Brennan was silent for a moment, although her mind was visibly reeling. "But… what are you going to do?" she eventually asked, and the question, in all of its guileless logic, finally forced Booth to wake up to the ramifications of his actions.

He studied the beautiful woman before him with panicked eyes, realising that this could feasibly be the last time he ever saw her, because the events of tonight had made it painfully clear that she didn't share his feelings - he had spent the last four years deluding himself with visions of what would never be. Then he choked on a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but definitely grounded in hysteria. "I don't know," he whispered, shaking his head despairingly. "I just… I don't know."

"Booth…" Brennan was still trying to come to terms with the fact that her partner had risked his illustrious career solely for the sake of protecting her privacy. She realised, then, that her utter ingratitude was probably making him feel even worse, and reached out to touch his forearm. "I'm… sorry."

Gazing at the small hand clasping his forearm, Booth inexplicably started to laugh, but Brennan was quickly able to ascertain that the hollow, humourless sound emanating from her partner was far removed from his usual hearty chuckle… in fact, it was almost unhinged. She felt a jolt of fear ripple through her as she observed the tears welling in his eyes. She didn't know what she would do if they started spilling down Booth's ruddy cheeks, and she tried not to visibly flinch when his penetrating gaze settled upon her.

"I'm gonna miss you, Bones," Booth confessed, and was surprised to note that his partner seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Well, you should have thought of that earlier, shouldn't you?" Brennan countered acerbically, biting her lip, but then the last vestiges of her anger seemed to fade as she contemplated the horrific reality of the situation - of what her day-to-day life was going to be like without Booth in it. Her gaze settled on her partner's swollen knuckles, and she reached out to take his hand, recoiling in shock when he jerked away from her.

"I think you should go," Booth said flatly, unable to endure the physical contact because he knew that her sympathy would be his undoing.

Brennan looked mortally wounded for a moment, but then quickly schooled her face into a mask of nonchalance. "Fine, if that's what you want," she said, easily concealing her underlying pain as she made a show of checking her watch. "Visiting hours aren't over until 9pm, and I imagine Brad will be glad of the company."

"Oh yeah, Bones, he loves your company," Booth enthused, nodding earnestly. "I mean, he couldn't stop gushing about what a riveting conversationalist you are."

He stared at her pointedly for a moment, willing her to understand the message behind his sarcasm, and Brennan paused to regard him thoughtfully whilst en route to the front door.

"I imagine that Brad is probably very angry right now, Booth," she surmised, ignoring the undignified snort that ensued, "But maybe if I were to talk to him... to try and make him understand your motivations, however misguided they may have been..." she trailed off when she saw the look of sheer incredulity on her partner's face.

"Don't waste your breath, Bones," Booth retorted, although his tone was more weary than venomous. "Because, believe me, he's not going to listen."

Brennan nodded sadly, shooting Booth one last agonised look before she shut the front door firmly behind her. Her departure - and the wealth of unresolved issues left in her wake - was enough to send Booth over the edge, but he managed to wait until her footfalls had faded before kicking the couch into submission. Then he sank onto the weathered cushions, burying his head in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I am seriously bouncing off the walls (in between bouts of frenetic typing, of course), because I genuinely can't believe the amazing response this story has had so far. Thank you so much for your words of encouragement, and please keep them coming because they do wonders for my motivation... and occasionally help to convince me that sleep is superfluous to requirements. **_

_**In this update, Brennan finally sees the error of her ways, but I'd just like to take a moment to justify her actions in Chapter 2, because I think they have, to some extent, been misconstrued. Even though her anger was undoubtedly misplaced, you have to remember that Brennan wasn't party to the ugly events that unfolded in the locker room. Booth has been somewhat hazy on the details, so Bones is bound to be incensed by what she perceives to be the 'irrational' motives behind his actions, and she is struggling to fathom why such a savage beating was warranted. I hope I conveyed how devastated Brennan was when she heard about Booth's suspension, but when she tried to reach out to him, he was ultimately the one who pushed her away - understandably, of course, but please don't mistake her inbuilt defence mechanism for heartlessness.**_

_**Hopefully, this chapter will offer more of an insight into Brennan's perspective. I thought it was about time that she had her own insight into Brad's 'Jekyll & Hyde' persona and, suffice it to say, he's about to get his comeuppance from a whole new angle.**_

_**PS - I know that most of you never wanted to see the loathsome little bastard again, but if you enjoyed watching his fall from glory in the first chapter, trust me, you're going to love this one. **_

* * *

Three Days Later

Brennan wasn't accustomed to receiving many visitors, so when a staccato knock sounded on her front door, her heart began to beat at a rapidly accelerated rhythm. Her palms were sweating with anticipation as she hurriedly made her way across the room, but her expression quickly became marred with a mixture of shock and disappointment when she peered hopefully through the peephole.

"Brad," she choked out, eyeing the Agent's bruised countenance warily as she reluctantly opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

Brad handed her a pungent bouquet of roses, and his split lip had healed enough to form some semblance of a charming smile. After being discharged from the hospital, he had spent many hours debating whether it was worth pursuing this bizarre, but beautiful woman, especially when she was flanked by such an aggressively temperamental bodyguard. However, upon joyfully absorbing the news of Booth's suspension, he had reached the naive conclusion that there was nothing left to lose.

Brad no longer had to worry about running into the intimidating Agent on a daily basis, and it's not like Booth had the resources to figure out where he lived anymore, either. And it just kept getting better, because the sentimental idiot cared about his partner's feelings so damn much that he had still neglected to give Brennan a full account of that afternoon's unseemly events. Or at least, that was what Brad assumed, given that Temperance had briefly visited him in the hospital to apologise for Booth's actions, albeit somewhat half-heartedly. Sure, he got the impression that she was trying to butter him up in a bid to get her partner reinstated, but Brad was here to tell his side of the story and milk his undisputed status as a victim - hopefully with a fruitful outcome.

"Are you trying to tell me that I need an excuse to see you?" he countered, leaning forwards with the intention of placing a kiss on Brennan's cheek. He frowned when she recoiled, a look of revulsion briefly clouding her features.

"I'm not really in the mood for company," Brennan informed him quietly, frowning when he brushed past her regardless.

"It's OK, I wasn't planning on staying for very long." Brad sank onto the couch, inadvertently claiming Booth's usual space. "It's just that we didn't really get much of a chance to talk at the hospital, so I wanted to clear the air a bit, you know?"

He patted the cushion besides him invitingly, but Brennan regarded him blankly, opting to perch in an armchair on the other side of the room instead. "What do you want to talk about?" she enquired, somewhat warily.

"Have you spoken to Booth lately?" Brad blurted out, studying her expression intently. The impenetrable mask faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of unfathomable sadness, but then she was regarding him intently with arctic blue eyes.

"No, I haven't."

Brad inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, and attempted to cultivate a look of concern. "Look, I know it must be hard for you, Temperance," he ventured, his tone the very definition of sincerity. "I mean, I know you two were close."

"You don't know anything." It was a flat, incontestable assertion, and Brad forced his voice to remain calm as he finally acknowledged that his quarry was slipping away.

"I know the FBI can't afford to employ a loose cannon, Temperance," he informed her bluntly, and she regarded him sharply.

"What do you mean?"

Brad heaved an aggrieved sigh. "Look, obviously I'm biased here, given that I was the one who got the shit kicked out of him, but there is no way Cullen would've suspended Booth unless he thought his jealousy was starting to stand in the way of his common sense."

To Brad's astonishment, Brennan started to laugh. "You think Booth is jealous of you?" she demanded incredulously, making it abundantly clear that she thought the notion was absurd. "I'm sorry, Brad, but his investigative abilities are far superior to yours and he has many assets that you lack. What possible motivation could he have for being jealous of you?"

It took all of Brad's willpower to maintain his self-control. His lips quirked into what he hoped was a patient smile and not a grimace. "Temperance, surely you can't be that clueless?" he said, with as much tenderness as he could muster. "I mean, everyone knows that Booth is hopelessly in love with you. He couldn't stand me infringing on his so-called territory, so when he heard me singing your praises to the other guys, he completely lost it." He regarded her expectantly, hoping that he had appealed to her feminist sensibilities by suggesting that Booth viewed her as a piece of his property, but Brennan was shaking her head violently.

"No," she stated firmly, her eyes brimming with something that looked suspiciously like disappointment. "You're wrong. Booth isn't interested in me in a romantic capacity. We've been partners for four years and he's never tried to push our relationship beyond the boundaries of friendship." She began playing with the sleeve of her jacket. "I'm clearly not his type."

Brennan's mind briefly flitted to the far-from-chaste kiss she had shared with her partner under the mistletoe… she had been horrified when Booth offered to reason with Caroline and had almost embarrassed herself with her forceful attempts to persuade him not to. That alone should have forced her to question whether Booth was as keen to explore the parameters of their relationship as she was. After all, she was the one who had chewed her way through a packet of spearmint gum prior to the encounter. Booth hadn't even been concerned with freshening his breath… not that he'd needed to. She had wanted to kiss him for two years, and had finally been presented with an opportunity to do so, in a context where neither one of them had to claim culpability. It was a perfect scenario for testing the proverbial waters, so she had deliberately turned what could have been a close-mouthed and reticent kiss into something a little more risqué, hoping that Booth would realise the benefits of obliterating his goddamn line. He hadn't. In fact, aside from a dismissive conversation with Sweets, he'd never eluded to the awkward moment again. Clearly, she hadn't been successful in piquing his curiosity and, given that he'd failed to respond amorously to her advances (unlike the previous men she had encountered), she had to conclude that the curiosity was never there in the first place. She had, of course, been bitterly disappointed, but not enough to jeopardise the most fulfilling friendship she'd ever had.

Brad noticed that Temperance's stoic demeanour had sustained a hairline fracture, and decided to use it to his advantage. He eased himself into an upright position, approaching her tentatively. "You're not his type? Are you kidding me? Come on, Temperance, you're gorgeous; you're everyone's type." He sank to his knees in front of her, trying not to show his anger when she instantly removed his hand from her thigh.

"That is a sweeping generalisation that you can't possibly hope to substantiate," she remarked derisively, and Brad shook his head despairingly.

"Actually, it was supposed to be a compliment, but you know, whatever." He shrugged, offering her an obsequious smile. "You must be blind if you can't see that Booth worships the ground you walk on. I mean, there are guys who've worked with him for years and even they're saying that he's ass over teakettle for you. Cullen obviously thinks it's screwing with his ability to be objective, and that's why he made an example of him."

Confusion was beginning to work its way across Temperance's features, and she stood up abruptly, making her way into the kitchen and pouring herself a drink of fruit juice. She didn't extend the offer to Brad, and shuddered when she registered his proximity, shrugging away from the hands that came to rest possessively against her shoulders.

"Brad, it's late. I really think you should go," she said, fighting to keep her tone under control.

The Agent's underlying agitation was beginning to show. "Look, Temperance, I can understand why you're wary of seeing me after everything that's happened, but whatever Booth told you, it's a bunch of bullshit, OK? I was just minding my own business, joking around with a few friends, and the next thing I know, his fist is in my face."

"I don't believe you," she told him flatly, and he could see the anger starting to seep through her composure. "Booth wouldn't lie to me."

"Temperance, please," he begged, utilising his puppy dog eyes to their full capacity. "The other night was amazing, and I just…"

"What, Brad? You'd like a repeat performance, is that it?" she enquired scathingly, invading his personal space and eyeballing him with disconcerting hostility. "Well you can go to hell, because let me tell you now, it's not going to happen."

Brad started to laugh derisively. "Why, aren't my features symmetrical enough for you anymore?" His lips curled into a contemptuous sneer as his mocking laughter subsided. "Because God knows, I didn't have to work very hard to get you into bed four days ago."

Brennan laughed dismissively at his puerile jibe. "Four days ago, I wasn't aware of the fact that I was sleeping with a duplicitous bastard who had the potential to destroy my partner's career, and the fact that you have the audacity to insinuate that _I'm_ promiscuous, when _your_ sexual appetite is purportedly insatiable, leads me to conclude that you're a chauvinist pig, too."

Brad raised an eyebrow, "If that's how you feel, Temperance, fine…" He leaned closer towards her, fingering the ends of her hair until she angrily slapped his hand away. "But if you want me to put in a good word for Booth, you should know that I'll always be amenable to a rematch."

Brennan regarded him in utter disbelief. "Are you attempting to blackmail me into sleeping with you? Because I really don't think Cullen would appreciate that."

Brad shrugged. "All I'm saying is that fucking you was a privilege I wouldn't mind repeating. Although…" He sent a spiteful grin in her direction, "I'm not sure whether 'privilege' is really the right word, because God knows, I had to suffer through a lot to get there." He leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his tone to a harsh whisper. "Has anyone ever told you that you're mind-numbingly boring?"

"Brad, if I selected my sexual partners based on their ability to understand intelligent conversation, you never would have been in the running." Brennan's cheeks were burning, but she offered him no outward indication as to the effect his cruel words were having on her. "You seem to be labouring under the mistaken assumption that I valued you as something more than a means to an end." She regarded him coldly. "Your opinion of me has absolutely no bearing on my existence."

"Then I wonder why Booth had such an issue with me sharing it with everyone else?" Brad countered, feigning puzzlement.

"Maybe because he understands the concepts of discretion and integrity," Brennan spat out, knowing that now wasn't the best time to start inwardly replaying all of the erroneous accusations she had levelled against her partner prior to their enforced estrangement.

"You know, I still don't know exactly how much he heard," Brad confessed, eyeing Brennan intently in the hopes of seeing her self-possession crumble. "He made his dramatic entrance just as I was winding down, but for all I know, he could have been standing there the whole time. And you know what the funniest thing is? He acted like I was doing him a disservice, but I actually think I saved him a whole lot of heartache in the long run." He regarded Brennan pointedly. "At least now he knows the love of his life is damaged goods."

Brennan barely blinked in the face of the scathing remark, but her tone was clipped as she gestured to her door. "_Get out_."

"I guess Booth just couldn't bring himself to ask you whether everything I said was true," Brad continued, determined to make Brennan break down before he was forced to make a hasty departure. "I mean, maybe I should do the noble thing and tell you exactly what you missed?"

"Brad, you're clearly excessively fond of the sound of your own voice, but I've heard enough from you to last me a lifetime," Brennan spat out, her veneer of control visibly close to crumbling, "You need to leave. _Right now._"

"If only you were capable of displaying this much passion in the bedroom," Brad taunted her, and Brennan regarded him amusedly.

"Perhaps you need to work on your technique," she informed him, somewhat sardonically, but then her voice lowered in warning. "Now, I'm not going to tell you again…" she drove the heels of her hands into his chest, relishing his wince as she pushed him towards the door with a surprising display of brute force. _"Get out."_

Brad seized Brennan's wrists as she made to shove him again, holding them in a vice-like grip. "Don't fucking push me, Temperance."

Brennan laughed, effortlessly wrenching her wrists away from their prison and regarding the incensed Agent defiantly. "Why, Brad, what are you going to do?" She pushed him again, harder this time, and he stumbled backwards, almost losing his footing. "I'm not going to stop until you leave of your own volition," she informed him, prepared to drive him over the threshold of the door itself if necessary.

The prospect of him striking her in supposed self-defence wasn't something Brennan ever envisaged, so the blow to her right cheek took her by surprise, sending her sprawling against the kitchen counter. She regained an upright stance within a matter of seconds, and fought back a wave of latent nausea as she raised her fists into a guarding block, but one look at Brad's aghast expression told her it was an unnecessary measure.

"Oh my God, Temperance, I'm so sorry." He sounded genuinely remorseful as he reached out to brush back her dishevelled hair, attempting to ascertain how much damage he'd inflicted, but before he knew it, he was pinned against the refrigerator with Brennan's slender, but surprisingly strong arm pressing against his windpipe, effectively cutting off his oxygen supply. As the potential repercussions of his idiocy dawned on him, Brad didn't dare to extricate himself.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the police and have you arrested for felony assault?" Brennan demanded, her eyes flashing with barely repressed rage. She tried to visualise her partner in the interrogation room, and knew she was going to have to channel his intimidating technique if she wanted to capitalise on the situation.

"I asked you to leave the premises _three times_, Brad," she reminded him, "But you refused, and I hear they don't look too favourably on law enforcement officers throwing their weight around, especially where women are concerned."

"I'm sorry," Brad choked out, grunting when Brennan intensified the pressure on his fragile windpipe.

"I haven't finished yet," she ground out, eyeing him warningly. "Ascertaining the motive behind acts of violence is usually Booth's department, but he's taught me a lot over the years. Let's face it, Brad, he made you look like a snivelling fool in front of your friends, and I think it would be considered perfectly feasible for you to vent your frustrations on his partner, especially considering that you maligned the woman in question in front of a sizeable audience only days earlier." A feral smile touched her lips. "Now, I don't know much about internal policy at the FBI, but something tells me that might warrant a suspension all of your own."

Brad took one look at the angry purple welt forming on Brennan's cheekbone, and knew he couldn't contest her assertion. "OK, you're right, I'm sorry," he gasped out, struggling for breath. "What do you want me to do?"

Brennan allowed her grip to loosen slightly as she contemplated her response. "You're going to leave my apartment and, as soon as you get home, you're going to call Deputy-Director Cullen on his emergency contact number. You're going to tell him that you want Booth reinstated immediately, because you've come to the conclusion that - even if the beating was somewhat excessive, you undoubtedly deserved it. I don't care if you have to tell him precisely what you said to provoke such a reaction, you'd just better get that suspension lifted, OK?"

Brad was starting to view this unyielding and startlingly strong woman in a whole new light, but he nodded obligingly. "OK, I'll do everything I can to get him back on the books. You have my word."

"For what it's worth," Brennan spat out, regarding him disgustedly. "And," she hastily added, "If for some reason that doesn't work, you're going to ask all of your friends to pay Cullen a visit and tell him how appallingly you behaved, OK?"

Brad nodded reluctantly, and Brennan finally relinquished her grip.

"Now go," she commanded, and Brad finally obliged, hastily making his way across the room and slamming the front door violently behind him. It was the only gesture of defiance he had left at his disposal.

Brennan waited until his footsteps had faded before locking the door behind him, and then she sank into a heap on the hardwood floor, touching her throbbing cheek with shaking fingertips. She didn't allow herself to feel an iota of pride in her performance; she was still reeling from Brad's scathing comments and was racked with guilt for not trusting Booth's judgement in the first place. He had sacrificed everything to look out for her best interests, and she had been too preoccupied with berating him to recognise that fact. For the first time in her life, Brennan was consumed with the need to apologise. She reached for her cell phone, closing her eyes in an effort to ward off the skull-splitting headache that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Bones?" Her partner answered his phone on the forth ring, and his voice was gruff and laced with surprise.

"Booth," Brennan breathed, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and then - to her utter mortification - she promptly burst into tears.

"Hey, are you still there?" Booth asked, and then frowned when he caught the tail end of a muffled sob. "Bones, what's wrong?" he demanded, his strangled voice easily betraying his concern. "Bones, come on, talk to me. Where are you? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No…. I just… I'm so sorry," she whispered, desperately trying to rein in her tears. "You were right, I should have… I should have listened to you," she admitted, barely containing her sobs. "I'm so sorry, Booth."

"It's OK," he instinctively reassured her, unaware that Brennan was shaking her head violently in response to his assertion.

"It's not OK," she choked out, and Booth's alarm increased exponentially.

"Bones, has something happened? Because I swear, if that asshole has been bothering you again… " He trailed off, fighting to contain his anger. He knew she didn't appreciate his knight-in-shining armour routine, but it didn't make it any easier to quell his protective instincts. "Look, I don't want to have this conversation over the phone, OK? Where are you?"

Brennan's eyes widened in consternation when she envisaged how her partner might react to the welt that was undoubtedly marring her countenance. "Booth, you don't have to come over, OK? Brad isn't…" she heaved a shaky sigh, "He isn't going to be bothering us anymore."

Booth's already prominent frown deepened. "Bones, what did you do?" he demanded, fighting to keep his voice level.

"I…" Brennan allowed the smallest of smiles to touch her lips. "I think I got you your job back."


	4. Chapter 4

_**I hope you enjoy this epic update - I think it's what most of you have been gearing up for, and y**__**ou sentimental types better get your tissues at the ready, because there's some major soul-searching going on in this chapter! **_

_**Once again, let me extend my undying gratitude to everyone who has commented thus far - especially those of you who have been kind enough to review every chapter! I might have a day off tomorrow so I don't burn out - my eyes are starting to go square, but rest assured, I'll be back with you shortly.**_

_**Please keep the feedback coming!**_

* * *

Bones had expressly asked Booth not to visit her this evening, but even though he was loath to disobey her wishes - knowing that she might react unfavourably, there was no way he could ignore his intuition. Every fibre of his being was propelling him to pick up the phone and dial for a taxi, and this time he knew he wasn't going to give a damn how much the fare cost. Brennan's broken sobs were still echoing in his ears, and at the moment, he had more unanswered questions than freakin' Pinocchio. He didn't doubt the sincerity of his partner's apology, but he did doubt whether remorse was the sole cause of Bones' palpable despair. Dennison had obviously taken it upon himself to encroach on her territory, and Booth didn't want to contemplate what might have come swarming out of the bastard's venomous mouth this time.

Booth had committed a sin of omission in protecting Bones from the truth, but it had never occurred to him that Dennison would be self-defeatist enough to deliver the blow himself… unless he had visited Brennan for an ill-timed booty call and discovered that his advances were no longer welcome. No matter how much he agonised over what might have transpired this evening, Booth still couldn't grasp his partner's abstruse reference to his potential re-instatement. _"I think I got you your job back," _she had announced, somewhat tentatively. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He didn't dare to believe it was true, let alone contemplate how it was possible, and Brennan hadn't deigned to answer his barrage of questions, either. She had begged off, claiming that she had a headache and wanted an early night, and Booth was about to question her excuse when he realised he was listening to a dial tone.

He was out on the street waiting for the cab to arrive when his cell phone emitted a tuneless ring, and he answered it immediately, not stopping to check the caller display.

"Bones?"

Deputy-Director Cullen cleared his throat. "No, Booth, it's Sam Cullen."

"Oh." Booth stared at the receiver in a mixture of shock and bewilderment, but his tone was cool as he addressed his former boss. "What can I do for you, Sir?" he asked, with as much civility as he could muster.

"Booth, it has been brought to my attention that I may have been… overly austere in my assessment of your actions on Thursday, and that perhaps…" he heaved a lengthy sigh; a woeful capitulation of a man who hated admitting that he was wrong, "Perhaps the punishment I saw fit to give you at the time - with the benefit of hindsight - could be considered somewhat excessive."

Booth could barely believe what he was hearing. "I'm sorry, but what exactly are you saying, Sir?"

Cullen gritted his teeth. "What I'm saying, Agent Booth, is that - if you're willing to abide by my conditions - I'm prepared to let you resume active duty from next week onwards." Cullen frowned when his offer was met with a resounding silence. "Booth, did you hear what I just said?"

Booth immediately snapped out of his shock-induced stupor. "Wow, yes, Sir… I heard what you said. I just…" Booth was too taken aback to form a coherent sentence. "What made you change your mind?" he eventually choked out, and Cullen found himself fighting back a smile.

"It seems Agent Dennison had a crisis of conscience," he stated, somewhat obliquely. "For some inexplicable reason, he felt compelled to tell me about his own role in this… unfortunate incident… and his astonishingly candid account has already been substantiated by several of your colleagues, who have been banging my door down to tell me that, in a court of law, you would have undoubtedly been able to use the defence of provocation." Cullen's tone, which had been torn between amusement and sarcasm, was suddenly deadly serious. "That does _not_, however, mean that I condone your behaviour in any way, shape or form."

"No, Sir, of course not," Booth reassured him, attempting to sound contrite.

"I mean it, Booth," Cullen reiterated with a frown, "Because if you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again…"

"It's not going to happen, Sir, you have my word," Booth vowed, gazing up at the Heavens in silent prayer… although something told him that it wasn't God who he should be thanking for this miracle.

"I'm glad to hear it," Cullen said wryly. "Now, I've booked you in for an anger management course at Quantico next month, and Dr. Sweets has kindly agreed to schedule some additional sessions with you – "

"Is that really necessary, Sir?" Booth enquired, emitting a noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan.

"You're not in a position to barter with me, Booth," Cullen reminded him; glad that the Agent couldn't see his decidedly smug smile. "Now, I suggest you go and tell that squint of yours the good news."

Booth was beaming as he saw the cab's headlights bearing down on him. "I'm already on my way, Sir."

"Oh, and Booth?" Cullen asked, waiting for the Agent's acknowledgement before he continued, "Please inform Dr Brennan that if she can't understand the concept of discretion, she needs to abstain from having any more dalliances with my Agents."

"If I remember rightly, _Dr Brennan_ isn't the one who has the problem with being discreet, Sir, so I don't plan on telling her any such thing." Booth's tone was laced with anger, and he knew his impudence could have dire consequences, but to his surprise, Cullen sounded somewhat chastised when he finally uttered his response.

"Alright, Booth, you've made your point, now get off the phone before I change my mind."

"Yes, Sir… oh, and Cullen?" Booth hesitated, summoning every ounce of sincerity he possessed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Cullen told him, allowing a small amount of affection to infiltrate his tone before finally ending the conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, an exuberant Booth was knocking persistently on his partner's door. Given the length of time it took her to respond, he began to wonder whether she really was sleeping, but then he heard the lock engage and breathed a sigh of relief. Even though he tried to feign sheepishness, a smile still tugged at his lips, and he barely even glanced at Bones before engulfing her in a tight embrace. He laughed slightly at her grunt of surprise, but was immeasurably relieved when her arms hesitantly encircled his waist.

"I know you told me not to come, but I just… I had to see you, OK?" He gave her a tender squeeze and, knowing how long it could be before he had an excuse to hug her again, Booth took a moment to absorb the heady sensation. "And listen, Bones, I don't know what the hell you said to that scumbag, but I just had the most unexpected phone call of my entire freakin' life. Cullen threw the book at me on Thursday, and he never backs down. Never. But this time…" Booth abruptly trailed off when he finally took the time to pull back and study his partner's expression. His features darkened ominously when he noticed the ugly purple bruise forming on Bones' swollen cheekbone.

"Bones, did that bastard…" he swallowed audibly, and his Adam's apple began bobbing up and down inside a throat that suddenly felt painfully constricted. "Did he hit you?"

Feeling the tension vibrating through her partner's rigid physique, Brennan immediately extricated herself from his embrace. "What? No," she said dismissively, studiously avoiding Booth's penetrating gaze. "The kitchen floor was wet and I… I slipped and caught my cheek on the corner of the cabinet."

"Temperance…" Booth's tone was frighteningly intense as he followed her into the kitchen, seizing her by the shoulders and forcing her to face him. "Don't ever lie to me," he warned her with uncharacteristic vehemence, and she visibly flinched when his finger came to rest on the underside of her chin, tilting her hanging head upwards.

Brennan couldn't understand how Booth's touch could be so painstakingly tender when sheer anger was emanating from every fibre of his being. His fingers sought to lightly brush her hair away from her face, and then his thumb grazed the outline of the throbbing contusion so softly she barely registered the contact.

"Booth, you got your job back, and that's all that matters," she informed him, cursing her voice for noticeably wavering.

"Bones, if you think that my job means more to me than your welfare, then you're very much mistaken." Booth regarded her intently, long enough for her to notice the spasmodic twitching of his clenched jaw, but then his gaze faltered. "I told that spiteful bastard that if he ever hurt you again, I'd fucking kill him…" Booth appeared to be waging an internal war with himself, but his dogged expression was a testimony to its rapid resolution, "And that's what I'm going to do," he concluded, his fierce tone leaving no room for argument.

"No! Booth, look at me," Temperance clutched his arm, and when he finally conceded to her request, she impulsively cupped his uncompromising face in her trembling hands. "You have to let this go," she beseeched him solemnly, stroking his burning cheeks as their gazes locked in a battle of wills. "You have to believe me when I say that I dealt with Brad effectively, and even though he's still very much alive, I can assure you that his dignity is far from being intact."

"And what about yours, Bones?" Booth demanded, regarding her discerningly. "Because I know that callous little shit probably went out of his way to upset you." His hands came to rest over hers, a minor concession to indicate that he wasn't going to embark on his murderous mission just yet. "What did he say to you?"

Brennan couldn't prevent her eyes from welling with tears, but she was determined not to let them fall. "He said… he said enough for me to realise that the way I treated you was unforgivable, Booth. I don't… I don't even know why you're here," she confessed, and then she was walking away from him all over again, curling into a feeble ball against the corner of the couch.

"Bones…" Booth sank down besides his partner, and his anger quickly dissipated in the face of his sudden apprehension. He had spent the last four days mourning the fact that he may have lost his partner forever; wondering why he had let her slip through his fingers without ever having taken a chance. Maybe now was a good time to start.

"I'm here because I care, OK?" he confessed, allowing a wry smile to touch his lips. "All of the stupid, idiotic, senseless things I do… they're all because I care, Bones."

She regarded him intently, offering him a small smile. "I know."

"So…" he ventured, bumping her gently with his shoulder, "If I promise not to hunt down Dennison and disembowel him, do you think you could maybe… tell me what happened tonight?"

Brennan shrugged. "I imagine it was just a repeat performance of what you already witnessed, Booth." She sighed, evading his gaze. "It quickly became apparent that Brad wanted to re-instigate our… relationship… and when I refused, he attempted to persuade me to change my mind by suggesting that he could 'put in a good word for you' with Cullen. I told him to go to hell, at which point he began to make some rather cruel intimations about my desirability outside of the bedroom, as well as my shortcomings… within it." She had been gazing at her hands, but spared her partner a brief glance when he laid a warm hand on her forearm.

"You know that what he said isn't anywhere close to being the truth, right, Bones?"

Brennan regarded him sharply. "Obviously, I realise it's somewhat unlikely that Brad would have wanted to sleep with me again if he really thought his comments were warranted, so I suspect that what he said was merely intended to be hurtful. Nevertheless, I was understandably somewhat offended, so I asked him to leave." She frowned, heaving a disgruntled sigh. "He refused, several times, so I had no choice but to push him towards the door, at which point he felt the need to defend himself by punching me in the face. I should have seen it coming," Brennan asserted, and Booth began to shake his head violently when he heard the self-deprecation in her tone.

"Bones, you couldn't possibly have foreseen something like that. This isn't your fault, OK?"

She studied him intently for a moment, before nodding. "I don't think Brad even intended to hit me… he just lashed out in a moment of anger, and he was very remorseful when he realised what he'd done."

"Temperance, do not even _think_ about making excuses for him, OK? You should have called me," Booth said, although his reprimanding tone gave way to a rueful grin when he saw her incredulous expression. "OK, maybe not, but you should definitely have called the police."

"I was quite effective at restraining him myself, thank you." Their eyes met, and for some inexplicable reason, they both began to laugh.

Brennan took a moment to regain her composure before continuing. "And then I realised that his idiotic actions had presented me with an excellent opportunity to make him… what do you call it? A deal?"

Booth nodded, giving her an affectionate smile.

"He was so mortified, Booth; he said he'd do anything, so I attempted to emulate the tactics you use during an interrogation. I pinned him against the refrigerator and invaded his personal space…" Brennan's usually reserved tone was becoming markedly more excitable, "And I told him that I would have him arrested for federal assault unless he was prepared to do whatever it takes to get you your job back. And it worked!" she concluded gleefully, smiling broadly despite the pain it incurred.

"Bones…" Booth regarded her with a mixture of awe and pride. "You did all of that, just for me?"

Brennan was somewhat disconcerted by the emotions playing across her partner's face. "It was the least I could do," she concluded, shrugging nonchalantly, but when she saw the effect her dismissive words had on Booth's demeanour, she decided to be a little more candid. "Besides… I wasn't prepared to lose you as my partner. I wouldn't have been able to bear working alongside anyone else."

They stared at each other for a moment, until the weight of their mutual appraisal became too oppressive. Booth stood up, and then impulsively leant down to place a chaste kiss on the top of his partner's forehead. "Well, it looks like you're stuck with me now, Bones," he declared jovially, before making a beeline towards the kitchen. "Do you mind if I grab a beer?"

"No, of course not. Help yourself," Brennan invited him, before hastily adding, "And you can get me one while you're at it."

They supped on their beverages in comfortable silence, sitting a little more closely than they usually did, but as Booth discreetly surveyed his partner's fatigued features, he was struck by the melancholy look in her eyes. He gently nudged her foot.

"What are you thinking about, Bones?"

"I just…" Brennan faltered, staring at her hands. "Do you think I'm like those pony-play people, Booth?" she suddenly blurted out.

Booth nearly choked on the mouthful of beer he had just consumed. "What?"

"I just… I don't think I've ever come close to breaking the laws of physics," she confessed, still studiously evading eye contact.

That admission nearly broke Booth's heart, but he forced his tone to remain controlled. "You will, Bones," he assured her, and she regarded him incredulously.

"What, with that elusive person I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with?" Brennan was aiming for sarcasm, and winced when her voice audibly cracked.

"Maybe they're not as elusive as you think," Booth murmured quietly, sparing her a surreptitious glance before lowering his gaze.

Brennan was poised to say _'I don't know what that means,' _but it suddenly occurred to her that maybe she didn't want her partner to clarify his comment. Maybe, for once, she didn't need him to correct her inferences… to shatter her hopes. She maintained a contemplative silence, inwardly debating with herself, before finally summoning the courage to ask a complex question. "Booth, what would you do if you thought you'd found that person - the one you were meant to spend the rest of your life with - but you weren't sure whether they felt the same way?"

Booth regarded her curiously for a moment, before shaking his head sadly. "I can't answer that for you, Bones, because I ask myself the same question at least a hundred times a day."

"You do?" Brennan asked, and her voice was so unexpectedly hopeful that Booth felt a surge of warmth course through him.

"Sure." He debated whether to elaborate on that assertion, but seeing how attentively his partner was gazing at him, Booth made the difficult decision to take a leap of faith.

"I mean, you can love someone so much that it hurts, you can look into their eyes and know that you'd lay down your life for them and sometimes, on the good days, you think that maybe, just maybe, they might feel that connection, too."

His eyes were drilling into Brennan's, analysing every nuance of her reaction. She swallowed, prominently, but maintained eye contact, and he somehow found the courage to continue.

"But then they say, you know, that they don't believe in love, that relationships aren't meant to be monogamous…"

He heard Brennan suck in a sharp breath when she finally realised that he was talking about her, but now he had finally dropped the bombshell, he knew it was senseless to be deterred by his fear of the fallout. If he was going to be taken to the cleaners, he wanted to make sure all of his cards were on the table first.

"And it's hard, you know, because this woman… she seems to be interested in every other guy but you. And the worst thing is, you know those guys are never going to be good enough for her. A part of you hopes that, if you keep telling her she deserves so much better, maybe one day she'll start to believe it… maybe one day she might give you the chance to show her what she's been missing." Booth had long since given up the charade of being able to stomach his partner's reaction to his heartfelt words, and now he stood up abruptly, beginning to aimlessly pace the room.

"But you're scared, too, because this woman, she's so brilliant - so special - that you can't help but think that maybe… maybe you don't deserve her either, maybe you can't offer her everything she needs." Booth cringed when his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, angrily blinking back tears. "And you think that maybe she knows that, and maybe that's why she's never given you the opportunity." He paused, leaning against the kitchen counter, not sure whether his legs were going to support his weight anymore. "Every single goddamn day, you think about taking a chance, but you know that you can't risk it, because if she were to turn you down, it would be a hell of a lot more painful than loving her from a safe distance."

He sucked in a cleansing breath, and realised it sounded more like a sob. Bones hadn't said a word, but her silence was speaking volumes. His pounding heart lurched in his chest, making him feel nauseous.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, edging towards the front door and furiously swiping at his eyes.

"Wait!" Brennan begged, and her heart rate increased tenfold when her partner stopped in his tracks, his back rigid with tension.

"Maybe she's scared, too," she confessed quietly, biting her lip. "Maybe she thinks there's a line that she's not supposed to cross. Maybe she can't commit to the idea of a monogamous relationship because no one has ever wanted to stick around before." She swallowed the prominent lump in her throat, gathering her resolve.

"Maybe she says she doesn't believe in love because the prospect of letting her emotions dictate her actions terrifies her. And maybe she dates other men because at least she can be sure that they want her, even though she knows she'll never meet someone who will make her forget how much she wants him." Torrents of tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Brennan used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe them away.

"Maybe she hates the way he fights her corner, the way he protects her without question, because she doesn't want to get used to depending on someone. Maybe she wants to give this man everything, but she's scared of being left with nothing, because even though he's always been there for her, she knows she's destined to fall short of his ideals." Heaving sobs were beginning to wrack Brennan's frail frame, but she was determined to soldier on regardless.

"Maybe he's worldly-wise and she's scared that he'll come to view her social ignorance with scorn. Maybe he gets mad at her a lot and she's scared that one day she'll push him over the edge, because she's difficult, and stubborn, and so is he. Maybe she thinks that he'll want children and he'll resent her for not being willing to provide them, maybe she thinks he'll begrudge her for not letting him put a ring on her finger. Maybe…" she broke down completely then, burying her head in her arms. "Maybe she doesn't want to lose her best friend."

Booth was by Brennan's side within a matter of seconds, gathering her into his arms. He clutched her tightly against him and she clung fast, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder and wrapping her arms securely around his waist. She didn't offer any resistance when he sank onto the couch and pulled her onto his lap, and he cradled her for over thirty minutes, determined to lull away her insecurities while he was lost in her exhilarating embrace.

"You're not going to lose me Bones, because I... I love you too damn much," he whispered fervently, and she gave him that dazzling smile that never failed to make his stomach clench in response.

"I love you, too," she whispered, finally allowing her adoration for this man to fully register on her features; revelling in the fact that it was shining right back at her.

Booth didn't know when they started to laugh, but it was the giddy sound of two people who had been liberated from a burden that had been weighing down on them for far too long. And it was wonderful.


	5. Chapter 5

**_OK, so I had this all planned out and Chapter 5 was initially intended to be my last instalment, but I wound up getting a lot more scope out of my ideas than I intended to. Had I tried to incorporate everything at once, this update probably would have seemed long and laboured, so I thought it would be prudent to find a suitable place to hit pause and then conclude the narrative in the next chapter. I'm afraid this means that you're going to have to wait a little while longer for the unbridled smut, but hopefully this chapter will give you a taste of what's to come. It is all about the build up, after all... right? Oh, and the plot, of course. My writing has depth, people! Still, I thought that if I couldn't give you smut on demand, I should most definitely offer up some romance, so hopefully you'll enjoy Brennan and Booth exploring the new-found dimensions of their relationship. Especially you, Kerrie LOL._**

**_So, behold my version of fluff, and p_****_lease let me know your thoughts. _**

* * *

Brennan was in a particularly irritable mood as she stomped up the stairs to her apartment, wondering why Angela had seen fit to usher her out of the lab shortly after 6.30pm. Booth had informed her that he was visiting Parker this evening, and getting completely engrossed in her work had seemed like the most effective way of ensuring that time elapsed quickly. She was loath to conclude that Booth had made such an indelible mark on her life that she was finding it difficult to tolerate a mere 24 hours without seeing him; she merely presumed that being unable to work alongside her partner during the daytime was making her far more receptive to his company in the evenings.

Booth would be back at work on Monday, and maybe then her heart would cease racketing in her chest every time she saw him, maybe her stomach would stop taking a swan dive at the mere suggestion of his touch, and maybe she wouldn't be so acutely aware of the newly acquired heat behind his gaze. She had been attracted to Booth for a long time, but it had taken her several years to accept that her feelings for him went far beyond a visceral reaction to a man who was – by anyone's standards - aesthetically pleasing. When other men looked at her, her chest didn't constrict with longing, her breath didn't catch in her throat and their words certainly didn't embed themselves into her subconscious so she could recall them months – years – after the fact. Other men didn't linger in her dreamscape, taunting her at every turn with fractured images of tender moments…prolonged hugs… impassioned arguments… life-saving heroics… and that God-forsaken kiss. Even back then, when her anticipation had been tempered by self-preservation, that kiss had momentarily robbed her of the ability to form a coherent thought.

But now… now the dynamics had shifted again… now she knew that her feelings were mutual, that Booth was equally as affected by her presence as she was his. It was getting so much harder to hold back that part of herself that she had always safeguarded behind an impenetrable shield... because it was so painfully _easy_ to look into those molten brown eyes and believe that Booth would always be there to cushion the blows. He'd never expressly asked her to trust him, but it was implicit in all of the things he did for her - the monumental and the minor - and what perturbed her more than anything was that she'd never had cause to doubt him… at least, not without subsequently realising that those doubts were unfounded. So, she had no reason to deny this man access to something she had never been willing to offer anyone else before, and for the most part, that was exhilarating… but sometimes, when she took the time to consider how her partner's proximity was no longer merely a pleasurable distraction - how it quite literally made her head spin - the complete irrationality of it all terrified her. Her exceptionally incisive brain was her primary asset; and yet Booth had the ability to render it blunt, to make her forget everything but the unprecedented emotions he elicited within her. And what scared her even more was that she was actually letting him.

She had fallen asleep on his lap the other night - something that was unheard of in itself, and had awoken to the sensation of floating on thin air. It had swiftly dawned on her that she was being carried effortlessly towards her bedroom, burrowed securely in her partner's arms, and her pulse instinctively quickened as they traversed the threshold. When Booth gently deposited her on her ornate King-sized bed, smoothing back errant strands of her hair, she had gazed up at him inquisitively, wondering if he was thinking about finally satiating the desire that had been lying dormant within them for almost four years. But he had surprised her by reaching out to gently remove her socks, lightly tickling the soles of her feet until she eventually emitted an undignified, and wholly uncharacteristic, squeal. The mischievous glint in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a soft smile, and he'd started to babble on about the availability of late-night taxis and their various shortcomings until even she, in spite of her ineptitude for reading between the lines, realised that he was requesting permission to stay. He'd volunteered to take the couch, but Brennan had instinctively reached out to seize his arm, quietly inviting him to sleep alongside her instead. It was only when she felt the bed sink under his weight that she acknowledged the magnitude of her decision. Booth was the first man she had ever expressly asked to stay.

For Sully, it had become a force of habit that she'd gradually learnt to accept, although the pillow she had placed between them had been an almost callous testimony to her need for space. His tossing and turning had driven her to distraction, and she was never comfortable enough with his proximity to relax into a peaceful sleep. Other men heeded her hints about an early start the next morning, and obligingly left while the night was still young. Then there were those who collapsed in exhaustion after she'd tested their stamina to its limitations, and she tolerated their comatose company until they regained consciousness and their roving hands became too much to endure.

With Booth, it was different. Earlier on that night, he'd informed her that, in the face of her apparent disinterest, he'd become accustomed to consciously holding back, abiding by the mantra that all parents instill in their children – 'you can look, but don't touch.' She had objected to that assertion, arguing that he was a very physical person, and quite tactile by nature. She alluded to how he continually rested his hand against the base of her spine and the brief touches to her forearm. He had looked faintly embarrassed, and Brennan had wondered, then, if he was even consciously aware of his actions.

That night, Booth had initially left over a foot of space between them, as though he sensed that she had surpassed her day's quota for physical contact. Then his hand had tentatively reached across the divide to gently clasp her own, and her heart had skittered in her chest as he caressed the underside of her palm. It took her several minutes before she finally mustered the courage to do what she'd wanted to from the very outset – curl up against him until Booth enfolded her in his arms and pulled her close. Settled snugly against his shoulder, her sleep had been deep, and dreamless; almost as gratifying as the feeling of contentment she had experienced on awakening.

She certainly hadn't wanted a respite from Booth's engaging company, but perhaps it was a good idea after all… perhaps she could regain some perspective without worrying about him promptly stealing it away from her again… not that she'd really had any choice in the matter. After a brief visit to the restroom, Brennan had returned to find Angela in her office, turning off her computer and hastily stacking the reams of paperwork that were sprawled across her desk. Summarising the events of her best friend's highly stressful week, Angela handed Brennan her purse and jacket and demanded that she go home and spend the evening unwinding - whatever that was meant to entail. Brennan's protests had been greeted with the flick of a light switch, and with her office plunged into darkness and Angela dragging her out of the door, she'd had no choice but to succumb to coercion.

Now, as she rounded the corridor leading to her front door, Brennan was struck by the sound of a familiar voice engaging in something relatively unfamiliar; namely singing… at a rather disconcerting volume. She edged closer to her door, and confirmed that the discordant din was indeed emanating from her very own apartment. A part of her instinctively bristled at being lured away from her office under false pretences, and she frowned upon realising that Booth must have taken the liberty of requisitioning her keys from Angela before effectively breaking in. What concerned her even more was her failure to recognise Booth's blatant lie about his intentions for the evening. How had she allowed herself to become so easily manipulated?

Her stomach was churning as she quietly edged open the door, and she fought to stifle a gasp at what she saw. Her rarely used dining table was decked in an elegant tablecloth, and a vase filled with yellow daffodils sat proudly at its centre. The flowers were freshly cut, and beautiful, and the flickering candlelight gave the spacious room a far more intimate glow. The table was laid with her best china, which she had only used a handful of times herself, and two capacious wine glasses were waiting to be filled. Whatever Booth was concocting in her open plan kitchen, it smelled delicious, and she bit back the laughter that bubbled up inside of her as she watched him dancing uninhibitedly between her work surfaces. An old fashioned radio was resting atop the breakfast bar, and Brennan's eyes crinkled with wry amusement when she finally registered what her partner was actually singing.

_Well, I guess you'll say  
What can make me feel this way?  
My girl…my girl… my girl  
Talkin' 'bout my girl. _

Knowing that the music would drown out her footfalls, she crept a little closer, ducking behind the doorway of her utility room so she could observe her partner from afar without the fear of being caught. Currently, she was only party to a rear view, but given that Booth's well-pressed jeans were sculpted to emphasise his exemplary gluteous maximus, she couldn't complain. All of her initial reservations were lost in a haze of warmth as it occurred to her that - even after four years of an increasingly close partnership - Booth still had the capacity to surprise her. She had been wined and dined at a catalogue of exclusive restaurants, but Brennan had always been party to what was expected in return. No-one had ever taken the time to cook for her before, and the fact that Booth seemed to be deriving so much pleasure from the process, rather than merely regarding it as a chore, left a salient lump in her throat.

She should have found his undulating hips comical, given the context, but his lithe movements were undeniably alluring, too, and she unconsciously bit her lower lip in appreciation. However, her smile returned with a vengeance when Booth started absent-mindedly clicking his fingers to the beat, but it was his heartfelt "Ooooh, Hoooo," sang into a ladle-cum-microphone, that ultimately sent her over the edge. She started to laugh – loudly - the kind of uncontrollable laughter that had thoroughly perplexed Caroline Julian, and it only intensified when Booth jumped with the shock of her unexpected interruption and proceeded to douse himself with the vegetable stock he had just been about to pour into the sizzling wok.

There were so many reasons why Booth should have been angry. He had just forked out a small fortune on cologne, and now he was destined to smell like a herb garden for the rest of the evening; the shirt he had spent half an hour selecting looked like it had been unceremoniously urinated on, and he was going to have to re-prepare the stock and amend the cooking time accordingly. Add to that the sheer humiliation of being caught performing in all of his uncensored glory, and it should have been enough to kill his remarkably good mood. Still, as he watched his beautiful partner collapse to her knees in the doorway, convulsing with uproarious laughter, he couldn't withhold a colossal grin. Setting the measuring jug aside, he crossed the room to apprehend a chortling Brennan, who was clutching her stomach tightly and apparently incapable of standing.

Booth heard her gasp out something akin to 'you call yourself a Ranger?' and he narrowed his eyes menacingly in response, but his affronted demeanour was belied by the chuckle that sprang forth from the depths of his stomach. He held out a hand, hauling Brennan to her feet, and promptly pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Booth! You're all wet. You're going to ruin my shirt," Brennan protested, but she didn't make any attempts to extricate herself. She felt slightly dizzy as she inhaled the heady scent of her partner's cologne, and her laughter quickly died down as he wound his fingers through her hair, caressing the nape of her neck until an answering shiver coursed through the length of her spine. "And I don't appreciate you invading my apartment without my express permission, either," she mumbled against his sturdy shoulder, jerking slightly when Booth's hand worked its way beneath the hem of her jacket and under the fringe of her blouse, tracing patterns against the bare skin of her lower back. "Mmm…" she murmured appreciatively, loosening her grip on his neck so she could seek out his gaze.

Their eyes locked, and her lips instinctively curved into a soft smile. Although she could detect the trappings of desire in Booth's intense stare, she knew that what she was seeing wasn't merely a by-product of his libido. His eyes were sparkling with tenderness and genuine affection, and the warmth of his appraisal resonated in the pit of her stomach, making it contract pleasurably in response. Her eyelids fluttered shut when Booth reached out to caress her cheek, and then promptly flew open again when he lowered his lips to brush lightly against her own. He was regarding her inquisitively, and she answered his unspoken question by deepening the tentative kiss, winding her fingers through his hair and gently tugging his head downwards.

His mouth was hot and pliable as it worked in effortless tandem with her own, and she was grateful for the arm that was firmly encircling her waist, because suddenly, her legs seemed reluctant to support her weight. Their bodies were pressed seamlessly together, and she felt the heat of him through the thin fabric of her blouse, igniting a slow burn that made her all-too-aware of the blood pulsating through her veins. She was tingling from head to toe and her clothes suddenly felt too constrictive, and when her partner pulled her impossibly closer, her rigid nipples chafed tantalisingly against the lacy fabric of her bra. She moaned then, a sound of pure gratification, and she felt his lips quirk into an answering smile.

Then Booth's dexterous tongue was coaxing its way into her receptive mouth, instigating a voracious battle with her own, and Brennan's grip on the back of his head intensified as she wordlessly invited him to plunge her depths. They sucked, flicked and nipped each other into a breathless frenzy, easily setting an agreeable rhythm despite the desperate need to unleash four year's worth of repressed longing. Booth couldn't withhold a grunt when Brennan edged one of her legs between his own, arching into him in a bid to alleviate the ache that was beginning to emanate from between her own quivering legs. The sensation of his already prominent arousal pressing persistently against her thigh made Brennan's knees buckle in response.

And then he pulled back, and she actually deigned to whimper in protest.

It seemed to take several moments for Booth to regain his equanimity, and his expression was an unlikely mixture of wonderment and regret. "The dinner's going to burn," he offered, somewhat feebly, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gesture of armistice.

Brennan was about to argue that she was frankly more interested in dessert, but acknowledging the effort Booth must have gone to in preparing the meal, she nodded reluctantly in response.

"It smells very appetising," she conceded, directing her inexplicably shaky legs towards the kitchen. She reached curiously for the recipe lying on the counter, and was shocked when Booth snatched it out of her hands.

"It's a surprise," he informed her, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he shot her a playful grin. "Now go and pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down while I finish up in here."

"Booth, I'm not an invalid," Brennan half-heartedly protested, suddenly feeling the need to re-assert herself after being reduced to putty in her partner's infinitely capable hands. "You don't have to pander to me as a precursor to sex, you know? I would be perfectly willing to sleep with you without the need for grand romantic gestures, and I fail to see why you felt the need to deliberately deceive me so you could… embellish my apartment." Brennan was somewhat surprised to see that her partner was shaking his head despairingly, and as she took in his suddenly taut posture, she realised that she must have inadvertently said something to offend him. "What?" she asked, quietly, and her chest constricted when she saw the hurt swimming in Booth's eyes.

"You think I did all of this as a 'precursor to sex?'" he demanded gruffly. "That I expected to get some kind of reward for my efforts?"

Quickly noticing his affronted tone, Brennan regarded him questioningly, and he lowered his gaze, turning his attention back to the wok.

"Maybe I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bones, that's all," he muttered, sighing exasperatedly. "But way to ruin the moment."

When Brennan failed to respond for a lengthy period of time, he turned around to appraise her, and was surprised to find her eyes teeming with unshed tears.

"Hey," he gently chided her, edging around the counter to stand besides her. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't mean to ruin the moment," she blurted out despondently, gazing at her tiled floor. "I just… I'm not used to…" she trailed off, swallowing prominently, and felt her partner's arms gently encircle her waist.

Booth rested his chin on top of Brennan's head, giving her an affectionate squeeze before whispering directly into her ear, "Then you'd better _get_ used to it, Bones, because there are plenty of ways to say 'I love you,' and they don't always have to be confined to the bedroom, OK?"

Brennan shivered as Booth's warm breath caressed the side of her cheek, and his words seemed to vibrate through her, causing her to visibly flush. "OK," she agreed somewhat dazedly, giggling in surprise when Booth gently slapped her on the ass in a bid to usher her out of the kitchen.

"Good. Now scram," he commanded, although his light-hearted tone quickly gave way to a sense of sorrow. He regarded Brennan contemplatively as she headed in the direction of the bathroom, and made a silent vow to make her feel special every single day.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'm afraid, my dear readers, that I may have inadvertently told you a little white lie. For those of you who thought I wouldn't be able to wrap up the story in a single chapter... well, suffice it to say that you were right. I just can't help but go off on tangents... really long and elaborate tangents. I never have been one for sticking to my initial plans (usually I don't bother writing one in the first place), but I figured that you'd want me to post today's endeavours sooner rather than later. On the upside, that means you get more for your money and front row seats at the extended version of Brennan and Booth's first date. Yay! On the downside, it means our dynamic duo are remaining fully-clothed for a little while longer. Boo! Although, thinking about it, that's not strictly true (wiggles eyebrows up and down suggestively, luring her readers in under false pretences). I have been at my computer since 7.45am this morning, and don't have the energy to calculate how many consecutive hours I spent on this one. OK, if I'm honest, my mental arithmetic is appalling - I was blessed with the words, not with the numbers. Anyhow, my poor knees have been bent for so long I fear I may never be able to stand upright again, so PLEASE SEND ME SOME REVIEWS to counter the affects of incapacitation. Or some cod liver oil. Whichever suits. **_

_**Thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 5. If I haven't replied to you yet, I promise I will shortly. I always leave the longest reviews until last, so I can invest as much time in responding to them as you lovely people clearly have in writing them. Kerrie, Leah, Carrie and Ger, I'm declaring my undying love for you in a public forum... in a non-sinister way, of course. He he :-) **_

**_And now I'm going to tell my sleep-deprived brain to shut the hell up. _** 

* * *

Having glanced at her reflection in the restroom mirror, Brennan had come to the rapid conclusion that her day-to-day attire and vaguely dishevelled appearance probably weren't conducive to seduction. Booth had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't expecting anything from her this evening, but his gentlemanly assertion had done little to quell her own desires. She had wanted men before, but had never felt anything akin to this all-consuming _need. _Booth's touch wasn't merely pleasurable, she actively yearned for it; he would glance in her general direction and her desire would rapidly evolve into a palpable craving. The intensity of these new-found sensations was disconcerting, and a part of her wondered how she was going to cope with temptation flanking her on a day-to-day basis.

Angela had subjected her to many lectures about enhancing her attributes, and although Booth had made quick work of loosening her fraying ponytail during their searing kiss, her minimalist make-up and lacklustre hair certainly weren't crying out to compel her partner's attention. Her lab coat had left her clothes crumpled, and she had to concede that her conservative apparel was doing little to accentuate her passable physique. Booth had undoubtedly seen her looking worse, but he had rarely seen her looking better. Usually, that wouldn't have concerned her, but she inwardly acknowledged that tonight was different from all the other times they had eaten together in her apartment. Tonight had all the hallmarks of a real 'date' and, given that her partner had clearly made an effort to please her, Brennan felt impelled to return the favour.

Booth was still happily pottering around in the kitchen, so Temperance seized the opportunity to take a swift shower. Emerging from the steaming cubicle shortly thereafter, she enveloped her freshly shampooed hair in a towel and regarded her rarely-used array of toiletries with a contemplative eye. Having daubed a liberal amount of luscious-smelling moisturiser onto her smooth skin, she made a beeline for her bedroom, rifling through her drawers until she found a sufficiently enticing set of undergarments. Despite being relatively modest, the violet-coloured bra suitably enhanced her cleavage, and the swirling lace was arranged in an attractive design. She slid the matching panties over her long legs, checking to ensure that she hadn't missed any spots while hastily shaving, and spared herself an approving glance in her full-length mirror.

Shivering slightly in her scantily clad state, Brennan spritzed herself with her most expensive, but subtle perfume, before temporarily slipping on a clean pair of flannel pajamas to ward off the cold. Then she set about ransacking her closet, looking vaguely lost as she surveyed the diverse selection of clothing she had haphazardly laid out on her bed. For the first time in her life, she wished she had Angela's ability to discern the appropriate attire for this kind of occasion.

She visibly jumped when an impatient knock sounded against her bedroom door.

"Come on Bones, what's taking you so long? Dinner's going to be ready in a second."

"Give me a minute, Booth," Brennan ground out, beginning to feel the trappings of panic when she heard her partner's disgruntled tone. She sighed in exasperation upon acknowledging the ludicrousness of her actions. Booth had grown to care for her without the need for costumes and accessories, so why was her heart pounding erratically at the prospect of him seeing her like this? Hastily towel-drying her brunette tresses, she ran a comb through her matted locks, working some curl-defining mousse into her hair before using her fingers to fluff it up so it wasn't plastered limply to the side of her face. She hadn't agonised over her appearance since she was an insecure teenager, and evaluating the possible implications of what to wear was making her head spin.

Had Booth been taking her to an expensive restaurant, she would have donned an outfit that was both elegant and sexually alluring. She gazed pensively at the black dress that her partner had acquired for her in Vegas. Booth had selected it himself, so clearly he was amenable to the simple yet flattering design… but perhaps it was too extravagant for a domestic environment? Booth seemed to have been affronted by her assumption that he wanted to have intercourse with her this evening, and she was concerned that the somewhat risqué outfit might suggest that she still believed otherwise... or maybe 'hoped' would be a more befitting term. Would it be more prudent to opt for something understated instead? Jeans and a tight-fitting sweater? But should she choose the one with the plunging neckline, or the one that - at least according to Angela - complemented her azure eyes?

"Bones, what the hell are you doing in there?" Booth demanded, throwing caution to the wind and sticking his head impertinently around her bedroom door, just as Brennan was in the process of tossing aside a dress that looked suspiciously like the one he had picked out for her in Vegas. This vision of his partner was far removed from the sultry wiles of her alter ego, Roxie, and he grinned as he took in Brennan's flustered appearance. She wasn't wearing an ounce of make-up; her flannel pajamas suited her, but were several sizes too big, and yet she was stunning in her unpretentiousness. Booth was so used to perceiving his partner as being wise beyond her years that seeing her looking so young and unaffected quite literally took his breath away. He quickly decided that he didn't want to see her fresh-faced complexion marred by whatever gunk women insisted on applying in an attempt to conceal their flaws. As far as he was concerned, Bones didn't have any, and he grabbed her hand, tugging her impatiently towards the door.

"You look fine as you are," he informed her earnestly, pulling a little harder when he was met with resistance.

"Booth, I'm wearing my pajamas," Brennan stated flatly, as though that in itself was a sufficient contradiction to his statement.

"And I'm wearing half a pint of vegetable stock," he countered, gesturing to the prominent yellow stain on his powder blue shirt with feigned dismay.

Brennan ducked her head, trying to hide a smile. "You can use the shower afterwards if you want, Booth. I think I have a couple of over-sized T-shirts that might fit you." _Or not_, she inwardly added, feeling her cheeks flush slightly as she envisaged her partner's sculpted chest and defined musculature.

"I might just take you up on that, Bones," Booth agreed amiably, "But will you quit trying to dislocate my arm and come and eat already?"

"But I wanted to put on something visually appealing first," Brennan objected, and Booth turned to regard her amusedly.

"There was nothing wrong with what you had on before," he informed her definitively. "You'd look good in a burlap sack, Bones."

"Why on Earth would you presume that I would wear a burlap – " Brennan trailed off as her partner came to stand entirely too close to her, his muscular arms edging her backwards until she was pressed flush against her bedroom wall.

"Temperance, if you think for one minute that anything you wear is going to detract from how much I want you, then you're overestimating my self-restraint." Booth slipped his hand beneath his partner's baggy pajama top, watching her captivating eyes widen as he grazed his fingertips over the smooth expanse of her flat stomach before lightly tracing the curve of her waist. "Now, let's go eat," he coaxed, unable to resist planting a brief, but loving kiss on her lips before he backed away.

Temperance swallowed prominently as she watched her partner sauntering ahead of her towards the kitchen, taking a moment to regain her composure before she trailed after him like an eager puppy dog, still clad in her pajamas. She paused in the doorway, her eyes glittering as she took in the sight before her.

All of the artificial lights had been turned off and the room was swathed in shadow, illuminated solely by the flickering candlelight emanating from the table. Her glass was now filled with an opulent red wine, and she eyed the casserole dish that had been placed between their adjoining places curiously, moving closer to survey its aromatic contents. In addition to the tofu and pasta shells that looked to have been cooked to perfection, she detected eight types of expertly diced vegetables, bathed in a rich, red stock that was peppered with a variety of complementary herbs.

"I found the recipe on a vegetarian website," Booth informed her, sounding uncharacteristically anxious. "Mediterranean tofu casserole," he quickly elaborated, in case she hadn't been able to discern that for herself. He spooned two steaming ladlefuls of the intricate dish onto her plate, and then paused in the midst of pulling out her chair, clearly thinking better of it.

Brennan's iridescent gaze flitted from her plate, to her partner, and back again, and before Booth had really registered what was happening, she was engulfing him in a warm embrace. He smiled into her still-damp hair, the beguiling scent of her shampoo easily overriding that of the food.

"Thank you," Brennan whispered softly, feeling her partner's stomach rising and falling in a hearty chuckle.

"You haven't tasted it yet, Bones," he warned her, offering her a soft smile as he gently disentangled himself from her embrace.

"Well, it certainly looks very impressive, Booth," she observed, sinking into her chair and waiting for her partner to join her before she eagerly sampled a forkful of the food.

She could feel Booth's eyes affixed to her, nervously awaiting her reaction, and she chewed thoughtfully, before breaking into a radiant smile. "It's perfect," she concluded, marvelling at how those two simple words had the capacity to rid her partner's handsome face of all its anxiety. She studied his strong, symmetrical features, which were painted in shades of black and ochre in the low candlelight, and not for the first time, considered just how attractive Booth really was. His eyes seemed darker than usual, fathomless in their intensity, but they were shining brightly back at her, and suddenly she found it hard to swallow.

They ate in comfortable silence for several minutes, and Booth smiled quietly to himself as he watched the contents of Brennan's plate rapidly diminish. His partner was a picky eater at the best of times, and he rarely had the opportunity to watch her devour a meal as though her appetite was insatiable. A feeling of warmth spread through him, helping to alleviate the fluttering in his stomach that was suppressing his own appetite, and he gingerly worked his way through the disgustingly healthy fare.

"You're wishing you had a side of fries with that, aren't you?" Brennan enquired, shooting him a knowing smile, and he grinned disarmingly back at her.

"You know me too well," he easily conceded, his eyes dancing in response.

"Too well?" Brennan quirked an eyebrow, and Booth nudged her forearm affectionately with his own.

"Maybe just well enough." He reached for his wine glass, taking a prolonged swig before tilting it towards his partner. "To us," he proclaimed softly, his voice catching slightly as their eyes locked over the rims of their sparkling glasses.

Brennan contemplated the gravity of that statement. She was used to standing alone in a world that she had come to view with a cynical eye, and the notion of belonging to someone else, of being a connected - rather than a separate - entity, was somewhat overwhelming.

"To us," she eventually echoed, chinking her partner's glass with her own and wondering how a modest sip of wine had the ability to make her feel utterly inebriated.

Booth watched the conflicting emotions playing across his partner's face, shifting in conjunction with the flickering candlelight. Her expression spanned the scope of sadness, realisation and finally, something akin to acceptance. Then she gazed up at him through lowered lashes, and those mesmerising eyes were a hue he had never seen before. They were soft, rather than piercing, and crystal clear in their unguarded - but infinite - complexity. Bones looked so painfully vulnerable that Booth was suddenly finding it hard to breathe, and he had to duck his head to regain his composure. When he found the courage to look up again, she was absorbed in her meal, and he reached out to tuck a wisp of hair behind her dainty ear, his thumb tenderly grazing her cheek in the process. To his surprise, the indomitable Temperance Brennan actually blushed in response to his ministrations, and he regarded her pink cheeks with evident delight.

"You know what, Bones? You don't need any gimmicks, because even without the dress, and the eyeliner, and whatever other crap you were planning to put on… I just… I can't take my eyes off you. I never could," Booth admitted, somewhat sheepishly, clearing his throat to try and assuage the huskiness of his tone. "And I know I've told you that you look nice before, but nice doesn't really cut it, because you're so unbelievably beautiful, Bones. Just… stunning," he concluded reverently, watching attentively as the pink spots on his partner's cheeks rapidly turned crimson.

"Booth…" Brennan whispered in half-hearted protest, wholly unaccustomed to being the subject of such unabashed veneration.

"Yeah, I know." Booth snorted self-deprecatingly at his own sentimentality, and decided to rapidly change the subject. "So…" he ventured, topping up both of their wine glasses, "What have you been up to at work, given that you're not having to 'aim me in the right direction' this week?"

Brennan frowned. "Booth, when I said that, I didn't mean - "

"It's OK, I know. I was just kidding," Booth reassured her, watching her furrowed brow relax in response.

"Oh." Temperance's lips quirked slightly in amusement, and then she proceeded to fill Booth in on what he had missed during his absence, unaware that she was doing so in excruciating detail. She spent three minutes deriding the numerous shortcomings of the latest intern and a further six minutes discussing the intricacies of the remains she had recovered from limbo. She was just about to tell him about a rather interesting phone call she had received regarding the authentication of a skeleton that purportedly belonged to a Viking warrior, when she realised Booth's formerly engaged expression now appeared markedly vacant.

'_Do you realise that you're mind-numbingly boring?'_ Brad's words echoed in her head, and she promptly trailed off, gazing fixedly at her plate.

Booth was jarred out of his reverie when the low cadence of his partner's tone ground to an abrupt halt, and he regarded her curiously. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone inflected with concern.

"Do you think I'm boring, Booth?" For the most part, Brennan's tone was good-natured, but Booth didn't fail to miss the haunting look of insecurity that registered in her downcast eyes. He cursed himself for paying more attention to her enchanting lips than the words they were forming.

"Is that what that asshole told you, Bones? That you were boring?" he ground out, tension suddenly cascading through his imposing frame.

Brennan dipped her head slightly, fiddling with her napkin. She didn't see the look of unbridled fury on her partner's face, but she could hear it in the intensity of his tone.

"Don't you _dare_ let that bastard make you doubt yourself, Bones, because he doesn't even know you, OK?" Booth shook his head angrily. "I mean, it takes a very limited amount of observation to ascertain how amazing you are, and if that idiot couldn't even grasp something as straightforward as that, I don't know how the hell he got accepted into the Bureau in the first place."

Brennan felt slightly mollified by her partner's passionate words, but something had been gnawing at her for the last few days, and it selected this inopportune moment to demand an outlet. "What did Brad say to all of those people, Booth?" she asked him quietly, but she knew that her partner wasn't going to address her query when his troubled expression quickly became shuttered.

"It doesn't matter," Booth informed her flatly, leaving no room for argument.

"But…I just…" Brennan bit her bottom lip, glancing at him surreptitiously. "I don't want you to think that I…"

Booth reached across the table, clasping his partner's hand and squeezing it tenderly. "I don't," he said gently, but firmly.

"Because what I had with him… it isn't…" Brennan regarded her partner with liquid eyes. "It's not how I feel when I'm with you," she whispered, swallowing prominently. "I don't care if _he_ thinks I'm boring," she added, almost inaudibly, but as always, Booth rapidly deduced what she had left unspoken.

"Look Bones, we both know that your squint speak goes way over my head sometimes, but don't ever think that I take your intelligence for granted," he reassured her. "What you do is amazing, I don't have to tell you that. And boring is the last word I'd use to describe you, OK?"

"But you find me infuriating," Brennan persisted, studying him attentively. "Isn't that worse?"

Booth sighed. "Bones, we all have our faults… and if we were to take a compatibility test, we'd probably fail it miserably - on paper, at least. But we just… we have that spark, OK? When we're together, something clicks, and I think it's because of our differences, not in spite of them." He saw his partner's thoughtful expression, and decided to continue before she could interrupt his impromptu assessment of their relationship.

"I mean… sure, we clash a lot when it comes to casework, but we always get the job done, and that's because we're programmed to look at things from different perspectives. You acquire the hard evidence, I fill in the blanks and together, we cover all the angles." He gave her an indulgent smile to belie the harshness of what he was about to say. "And OK, I'm not going to lie, you do have this maddening preoccupation with being right all the time, and some guys, like Michael Stires, might have a problem with that." He saw his partner flinch at the mention of her former professor, and instinctively reached out to tilt her bowed head towards him.

"_I_, however, am man enough to accept that you _are_ right, at least most of the time, and I will never begrudge you for that, Bones. Never. That doesn't mean to say that I'm going to back down without a fight, though, because sometimes…" he tweaked her nose affectionately, "I'm right, too."

Brennan rolled her eyes, slapping his hand away. "I know that, Booth," she informed him solemnly, grazing her thumb over his knuckles when he gently squeezed her hand. "I have as much faith in your capabilities as I do in my own."

"Really?" Booth asked, sounding surprised, and Brennan was touched by his hopeful expression.

"Really," she reiterated, smiling at him warmly. Following some hitherto unexplored instinct, she stood up, circling the table and situating herself comfortably on her partner's knee. Booth grinned at the unexpected gesture, nuzzling Bones' neck as she contentedly snuggled against him.

"Well, that's OK then," he whispered directly into Brennan's ear, wrapping an arm securely around her waist to prevent her from sliding off his lap as she shivered in response. "Because as long as I know that your constant stream of contradictions are grounded in respect, Bones, I'm not going to have an issue with you keeping me on my toes. In fact…" his damp mouth grazed its way along the side of her neck until he located her pulse point, and he sucked on it lightly, feeling her heartbeat racing against his lips… "I kind of like it."

"Mmm…" Brennan mumbled noncommittally, unconsciously tilting her head to allow her partner better access.

Booth started to laugh, and poked her gently in the ribs. "I'm trying to confess my undying love for you here, Bones. The least you could do is listen."

Brennan regarded him, wide-eyed and innocent. "I was listening, Booth. You said that you're willing to tolerate my contrary nature because I'm always right."

"That is not what I said at – " Booth trailed off as he observed his partner's impish grin. "Was that a joke?" he demanded, chuckling appreciatively and regarding her with something akin to wonderment. "You see, that's precisely why I could never find you boring, Bones. You're like a puzzle that can't be solved - just when I think I've got you all figured out, you throw me a curve ball, and I have to start guessing all over again." He absent-mindedly began to trace a pattern up and down Brennan's thighs; and she wondered whether he was remotely aware of the affect his languorous caresses were having on her. Apparently not, because he was still talking. Perhaps it would be considered prudent to swallow her arousal and pay attention.

"You know me better than anyone else, Booth," she informed him softly, placing her small hands over his far larger ones to halt their assault on her senses. "Even Angela."

"I like to think so," he murmured huskily, his eyes drilling into hers with an intensity that was almost disconcerting. "You had me from the get-go, you know that? As soon as I got a glimpse of what was behind all of that bravado, I wanted to know everything about you… your hopes, your fears, what makes you tick … I wanted to know how someone could handle that much pain and still function effectively… and, more than anything, I wanted to make damn sure that no one else could ever hurt you again." His partner had long since buried her head in his shoulder, and Booth cradled her tightly against him, caressing the nape of her neck as he murmured into her silken hair, "And I know I've still got a lot to learn, Bones, but even if it takes me a lifetime to figure out all of your secrets, I'm never going to stop trying."

Booth's heartfelt speech was greeted with a painfully prolonged silence, and he immediately concluded that this was too much, too soon. He'd waited so long to tell Bones how he felt, and now the declarations he had rehearsed a million times over in his head were coming out as a torrential downpour, uncensored and unfiltered, and he probably sounded like the most sentimental idiot ever to have walked the face of the planet. He was pushing his partner too hard, and he wasn't remotely surprised when she abruptly extricated herself from his embrace, sliding off his lap and gathering their plates into a pile before carrying them into the kitchen.

Bones ran the hot water and filled the sink, and Booth could easily discern that her back was rigid with tension. Her stunted movements were lacking their usual grace, and his chest started to ache as he watched her begin to mechanically wash the dishes. He waited several minutes before following her into the kitchen with the casserole dish, and placed it gently on the counter before tentatively approaching her. "Bones, the last thing I want to do is suffocate you," he said bluntly, inwardly cringing when she failed to acknowledge his presence. "And if you want me to leave… you know, to give you time to process everything…" The lack of response was killing him, and he shook his head sadly. "Look, maybe I shouldn't have done all of this in the first place…"

"NO," she cried out, and he was shocked by the fierceness of her tone.

She whirled around to face him then, and Booth sucked in a breath when he saw the tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. He hadn't even realised that Bones was crying, and his stomach churned in response to the storm raging in her tempestuous eyes.

"This…" Temperance choked out, fighting for composure, "This has been the nicest evening of my entire life…"

"Then why are you crying?" he ventured softly.

"Because you make me feel… too much… and it… it scares me, OK, Booth?" Brennan swiped at her eyes, regarding him with something akin to desperation. "I want you," she confessed with typical candour, "I want you so badly that I can barely breathe, but I don't understand when the transition took place. How can one conversation change everything, Booth?" She shook her head at the inconceivable notion. "How can three little words have the capacity to turn my world upside down?" She was gaining momentum now, and her voice was becoming stronger. "Why am I suddenly sensitive to everything you say, and hyperaware of everything you do? How can you become my whole world, and pervade my thoughts when you're not even in my vicinity?" Her eyes fell on her wine glass, which was still half-full, and she promptly found further ammunition for her tirade. "How can you make me feel intoxicated when I'm still sober? How can you make me feel overheated in a temperate room?" Her cheeks began to colour, almost as if to emphasise her point. "I know it's impossible for your touch to resonate everywhere, and yet it does." She heaved an aggrieved sigh. "It's not rational, Booth, and it's more than just hormones. It's… it's..."

"It's love, Bones," he concluded quietly, his eyes sparkling indulgently as he took in her bewildered expression, "Now put the freakin' dishcloth down and come here."

Brennan studied him intently, offering him an embarrassed smile, but Booth was quick to offer her sanctuary in a bone-crushing embrace. His grip gradually loosened as he traced intimate circles across her back, but his delicate touch was searing through the fabric of her pajamas. She wasn't going to be able to endure much more of this exquisite torture; not when there were a myriad of possibilities that would make her partner's 'guy hugs' pale in comparison.

"Look, if it's any consolation, you're not the only one who feels completely off-centre, OK? I feel exactly the same way," Booth confessed, offering her a disarming grin. "Love… it fucks you up, Bones. That's the bane and the beauty of it."

Temperance responded to her partner's poetic analogy by drawing him into a fleeting, but passionate kiss, sucking gently on his bottom lip before pulling back to regard him in what she hoped was a seductive manner. "Show me," she beseeched, effectively throwing down the gauntlet. She knew her partner would grasp the meaning behind her abstruse entreaty, and all of her nerve endings were on high alert as she waited for Booth to accept the challenge.


	7. Chapter 7

_**So, one bottle of hard liquor and several clumps of torn-out hair later, here we have it... over 7,000 words of unbridled smut. All I can say is that I really hope this proves to be worth the wait, because it is undoubtedly the hardest thing I've ever written... especially after the build-up of the preceding chapters. I just wish it had been as pleasurable a process for me as it seems to have been for Brennan and Booth LOL. **_

_**For all of you lovely people who have been following this story so avidly, I hope I haven't fallen short of your expectations! This is definitely the final chapter, incidentally... and at the moment I'm inclined to say 'thank God' LOL.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Booth didn't believe in false advertising. He wouldn't strut around his office sporting a 'cocky' belt buckle that was perfectly aligned with his manhood if he had issues with performance anxiety. However, as he gazed into his partner's shimmering azure eyes, anxiously observing how they were brimming with a potent blend of trust and anticipation, the magnitude of this amazing, but terrifying moment hit him with all the subtlety of a bullet train.

Booth hadn't been lying about love having the capacity to fuck you up; right now, he was feeling pretty fucked up himself. His partner's simple request had resonated primarily with his groin, but when he actually stopped to consider its connotations, his heart had started thrumming in his ears until he was deaf to everything else. Bones was asking him to lead her through uncharted territory without realising that his guidebook had gone AWOL and he was just as lost as she was. From the moment his partner had divulged her feelings for him, he knew that they would be embarking on a journey of discovery together, but for once in her life, Bones was relying on him to show her the main attractions and then figure out a way home. How could he tell her that, with her by his side, he was clueless? That, even though sex for him had always been about forging a connection, theirs was made of an alloy so rare and enduring that even Hodgins would be awed by its properties?

This was different, because this was Bones. She was everything to him, and she didn't even realise it. She was painfully oblivious to the power she wielded over him, how she was both his strength and his weakness; how she could alter his mood with a glance. Booth knew that the spell his partner had inadvertently woven around him was both binding and unbreakable, but he also knew that she could shatter him irreparably by walking away. So he was left floundering in a sea of new sensations, and on some level, he was terrified, because he'd never had trouble treading water before. When his partner sought out his gaze, or seared him with her touch, he felt as though he was being sucked into a vortex; dizzy and drowning with need. And now this achingly beautiful woman, who was a mass of ceaseless contradictions - intelligent but ignorant, confident but insecure, strong but fragile, cynical but naive – was asking him to achieve the impossible… to demonstrate the extent of his feelings for her. She wanted him to rock her world, to defy the laws of physics; to offer her something that no one else could. Her faith in him was both exhilarating and debilitating and, although he wasn't sure whether he could ever begin to live up to her expectations, he knew he was prepared to kill himself trying.

"Booth?"

His partner's tone was meek, and wavering with uncertainty, and Booth's instinctive need to reassure her forced his panicked ruminations to come to an abrupt halt. Bones was already starting to look hurt and confused by his delayed response, and over-analysing the implications of what was about to unfold swiftly lost its appeal in the face of her agitation.

"It's OK. Come here," he whispered, even though she was already wrapped loosely in his embrace. He lifted a hand to trace the outline of her jaw with his fingertips, and was horrified to realise that he was trembling like a first-timer.

He was expecting a facetious comment, but it didn't come, and he rewarded Bones for her uncharacteristic diplomacy by brushing his thumb against her parted lips. He watched them purse in approval as his hand roved marginally lower, grazing the length of her throat before stopping to caress her prominent collarbone. She tilted her head upwards just as his was in the process of descending, and suddenly they were breathing each other's air.

He met her lips in a tentative exploration once… twice… three times, before she grew tired of his reticence and demanded something more substantial. This time, the contact lingered, and Booth wasted no time in devouring her. His mouth was unrelenting in its tender, but avid assault and - as his partner's adroit tongue snaked out to spar ardently with his own - Booth was suddenly finding it a whole lot easier to look on the bright side. For a start, he knew that maintaining his arousal wasn't going to be a problem. He had been semi-hard for the whole evening, but now his desire was rocketing to a whole new dimension. Bones' soft mewls of approval were reverberating loudly in his crotch and his last coherent thought revolved around just how wrong Brad Dennison had been. Because his partner was warm, and responsive, and just so… Bones.

Brennan was lost in a fit of rapture. Booth's lips were as soft as satin, a stark contrast to his slightly abrasive stubble, and his talented mouth had somehow developed the ability to steal away her centre of gravity. His consummate technique went way beyond the realms of mere competency; what he was doing with his tongue was… prodigious. For the second time that night, Brennan was teetering precariously on limbs that had – until now - been unfailingly steady, and she fisted her partner's shirt in her hands, clinging on tightly in a desperate bid to remain grounded. She was hurtling towards a higher plane at a momentum that defied the laws of motion, and when Booth's lips parted from her own with an audible pop, the sound may as well have been a death knell, because the loss was palpable.

Her whimper of protest rapidly evolved into a ragged sigh when those deft lips focused their attention on her neck instead; licking, sucking, and flicking lightly at her earlobe until the blood pounding through her veins felt like molten heat.

"You smell so fucking good, Bones," Booth groaned, and his sweet breath caressed her skin, suffusing her in warmth.

She pressed herself flush against him then, getting a tantalising insight into the extent of his arousal, before frowning slightly when he edged away from her. She realised with a sense of utter relief that he had only created the meagre distance so he could manoeuvre his hands beneath the fabric of her top, and the delectable friction of skin on skin was nearly her undoing.

"I knew there was a reason why I liked these pajamas," Booth murmured, visibly delighted that he wasn't going to have to contend with a multitude of fiddly buttons or force his way beneath tight-fitting fabric to claim his prize. They both began to laugh, diffusing some of the heat that had rapidly built between them, but as soon as Booth's fingertips fluttered over her ribcage, the blaze re-ignited. Remembering their little tête-à-tête in the bedroom earlier, Booth's hands roved downwards, tracing jagged lines across his partner's abdomen, and Brennan jerked in his arms, eliciting a knowing smile.

"You like that?" he whispered hoarsely, and she nodded, letting her head fall to his shoulder as her hands embarked on an expedition of their own. Booth's shirt was tucked into the waistband of his pants, and she unceremoniously tugged it free, her eyes dancing amusedly as her attention was once again drawn to the ugly stain marring the otherwise pristine material. She loosened enough buttons to allow her small hands access, and then she edged them beneath the soft cotton, eagerly exploring the chiselled planes of Booth's smooth, sculpted torso. She could feel his well-defined muscles twitching in response to her ministrations, but suddenly, feeling wasn't enough. She wanted to see.

Booth sucked in a breath that was half arousal, half amusement as his partner quite literally tore the shirt from his back. The remaining buttons popped in protest, but he could only mumble his approval as she dragged her blunt fingernails lightly down the length of his spine. The throbbing wasn't just centred between his legs anymore, it was everywhere, and he hissed as Bones' lips moved up and down his sternum in perfect conjunction with the fingertips that were grazing his ribcage. Then she deviated from her path, her deft tongue flicking out to tease one of his hardened nipples, and now it was his turn to jerk against her.

Brennan gasped as she was provided with another intriguing insight into what was rapidly becoming the pinnacle of her partner's attributes. Booth's visible erection was stretching the unyielding fabric of his jeans far beyond their intended capacity, and she was captivated by the extent of his need for her. Did he know that she was aching for him just as badly?

Adhering to some baser need for instant gratification, Brennan instinctively began to grind her pelvis against her partner's lower extremities, hoping to alleviate the pressure that was making her head and her heart pound in a cruel coalition of mounting desire. Booth grunted then, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to vibrate through her, and Brennan's already slick undergarments quickly became sodden with empathy. Their lips crashed together, the effortless rhythm of their passionate kiss providing a stark contrast to the increasingly erratic movements of their hips, and the friction was so delectable that for one heart-stopping moment, Brennan thought she was going to climax whilst she was still fully clothed… if that was even possible.

"Booth…" she breathed, with something approaching desperation, and she almost sobbed when he wrenched himself away from her.

"Not like this," he murmured, knowing that finding a horizontal surface was imperative because the mind-blowing intensity of what they were doing had left him on the verge of collapse.

He reached for his partner's hand, and their fingers entwined as he led her purposefully in the direction of her bedroom. Brennan hastily pushed the pile of clothing on her bed aside and then she was looking at him with the most raw expression he had ever seen, her eyes hooded with a torrid mixture of desire and something that looked suspiciously akin to fear. He could have ignored it, but he had to know, and his gruff voice quivered slightly with repressed emotion as he hesitantly asked, "How are you bearing up, Bones?"

Hearing her partner's anxious tone, Brennan offered him a tentative smile, taking a small measure of comfort from knowing that she wasn't the only one who had lost her sense of equilibrium. "I'm fine," she reassured him quietly, but then her gaze faltered slightly. "Just don't…"

"Don't what, Bones?" Booth coaxed gently, smoothing back her hair.

"Don't leave me," she beseeched in a barely audible whisper, flinching slightly when she realised how needy that entreaty must have sounded.

Booth cupped Brennan's chin in his hand, forcing her to establish eye contact as he regarded her with a ferocious, but tender intensity. "Bones, I want you in my life, for the rest of my life, OK? And I promise you, nothing is ever going to change that." His tone was stronger now, brimming with conviction, and Brennan released a breath she hadn't even been aware of holding. As if to emphasise his point, Booth levelled a long and languid kiss against her tingling lips, before clambering onto her bed with panther-like grace.

Brennan wasted little time in joining him, breaking into a soft smile when, instead of making a beeline for her breasts like his wealth of predecessors, Booth began softly caressing her cheek. They studied each other assiduously for a moment, before Bones decided that perhaps the best way to regain some semblance of self-control would be to take charge.

Booth's eyes rolled back in hedonistic pleasure as his partner's nimble hands traced leisurely patterns across his torso, her soft touch branding his already overheated skin as she worked her way steadily downwards. "God… Bones… do you have any idea what you do to me?" His eyelids fluttered shut automatically, but after a moment he forced them open again, wanting to examine every nuance of his partner's mesmerising features. Bones' expression was flushed, but relatively serene, and it was only when he stopped to watch the motion of her fingers against his chest that he realised her hands were shaking violently.

"Hey," he whispered, squeezing them tenderly in a bid to stop the tremors, "It's just me, Bones. You don't have to be nervous." He lifted the delicate appendages to his lips, kissing each one of her long, graceful fingers in turn, and Brennan gazed up at him through lowered lashes, her already flushed cheeks colouring even more prominently. She knew it was pointless to deny his assumption, because he was right – for the first time in her adult life, her anticipation was warring with an unhealthy dose of apprehension, because the potent feelings Booth was eliciting within her went far beyond the realms of anything she had experienced before. She was faced with an implausible conundrum – she felt as though she was hanging off a precipice, and Booth was both her anchor and the reason she was falling in the first place. For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't seem to get close enough to him, so with a self-effacing smile, she succumbed to the impulse to crawl onto Booth's lap, burrowing against him as he wrapped her in an all-consuming embrace.

She gasped as she felt his arousal pressing persistently against her thigh, but as her partner began to gently stroke her hair, his deft fingers delicately kneading her scalp, she realised it wasn't merely her mounting desire that was making her dizzy. Booth could have been taking her by now, greedily trying to claim her as his own… he'd waited so long to unleash his desire that she wouldn't have blamed him if he'd slammed her up against the kitchen wall and fucked her quick and hard… and God knows, she wouldn't have stopped him. If this were any other man, she would have already been astride him, trying to achieve some form of release, hoping that this time, she would feel satiated instead of empty. If anyone else had laboured over the inevitable for this long… if any other man had tried to kiss her this deeply, caress her this lovingly, cradle her so tenderly… she would have undoubtedly balked, because such actions used to speak of something she could never begin to understand, something she thought was superfluous to requirements. But Booth… Booth made her feel cherished, and she was content to let the feeling wash over her in gentle, lapping waves because she realised - on some deep level - that she cherished him, too. Every time she looked into her partner's adoring brown eyes, Brennan realised that he wanted her - all of her, in spite of her shortcomings - and probably as desperately as she wanted him. It was the most powerful aphrodisiac she had ever encountered.

As if he could sense her train of thought, Booth's hands once again slipped below her pajama top, only this time, they climbed higher than before, stroking their way up her abdomen until they brushed against the lacy material of her bra. Brennan's breath hitched in anticipation as her straining nipples began to wordlessly beg for Booth's attention, getting some measure of relief when - after much maddening deliberation - he finally enveloped her breasts in his all-encompassing hands. He palmed them gently, testing their weight, before beginning a kneading motion that made her buck appreciatively in response. He groaned as she writhed in his lap, involuntarily squeezing a little harder, and she knew it was the most exquisite penance she could ever hope to pay.

The heat emanating from Booth's hands was warming her from the inside out, and she hated her bra for diminishing the sensation. Still, the abrasive lace was doing a sufficient job of stimulating her painfully erect nipples… at least until Booth finally saw fit to gently pinch them through the coarse fabric, rolling them lightly between his thumb and forefinger. The answering pang of arousal resounded in her groin, eliciting another involuntary shudder of satisfaction that left them both gasping in approval.

"Take your top off," Booth demanded without preamble, and his increasing sense of urgency only seemed to exacerbate her own. She hastily pulled the capacious shirt over her head, realising that Booth was simultaneously unclasping her bra. The partial disrobing left her feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, but whilst she'd hoped her physique would meet with Booth's approval, she was wholly unprepared for the way his eyes darkened; the way the muscles in his jaw bunched and twitched; how his Adam's apple seemed to bob far more prominently in his throat. A flush of anticipation washed over her, and her dusky pink nipples tightened even further under his unabashed appraisal.

"God… Bones." Booth was suddenly finding it hard to breathe, and he wrenched his admiring eyes away from his partner's heaving chest, seeking out her gaze in a bid to convey what words would never be able to. His contempt for Brad Dennison amplified tenfold; he couldn't believe the asshole had the audacity to degrade his partner's innate beauty by making it sound as though Bones had all the attributes of a playboy centrefold. She was a work of fucking art… utterly flawless… and more exquisite than even he had dared to imagine.

He was finding it increasingly hard to rein in his arousal, especially with Bones bucking sporadically against his throbbing erection, so he placed a lingering kiss on his partner's lips, slipping one arm beneath her knees and wrapping the other one firmly around her waist. He lifted her off his lap and settled her into a prostrate position in the middle of the bed, taking a moment to drink in the intoxicating sight of her led out before him… but then she was clasping her hands behind his head, willing him to move closer, and he was helpless to resist.

Brennan could feel the heat radiating off her partner's body as he leaned over her, and the minutiae of his features filled her vision. It felt like the most intimate appraisal they had ever engaged in, and the intensity of Booth's gaze made her heart hammer even more insistently against her ribcage. Her inhale was his exhale, and his hot breath only served to remind her of his taste… sweet, fresh and invigorating. The feeling of his naked chest pressing flush against her own was exhilarating, even more so when his lips began to ravish her, his tongue returning to plunder her depths without any advance warning. She put up a valiant fight, meeting him stroke for stroke, but as always, he was loath to compromise. When he finally succeeded in robbing her of air, he promptly turned his attentions elsewhere, and she whimpered as he licked and nibbled his way from her hyoid to her sternum. His tongue swirled tantalisingly around her areola, and her shallow breaths became even more ragged.

"Please…" she whimpered, and he glanced at her sharply, obviously not expecting her to beg. He wouldn't make her do it again.

Brennan's back formed a rigid arc when Booth finally sucked her aching nipple into his hot mouth, his tongue dancing over the sensitive nub with a far more dexterous rhythm than she'd seen him display in the kitchen. The heady sight and wet sounds of her partner ministering to her heaving breasts was almost too much to bear, and it wasn't just because he was so attuned to her proclivities, either. The fact that it was _Booth's_ hand that was seeking out that oh-so-sensitive spot on her stomach; the notion that it was _Booth_ who was enraptured in the task of suckling her into oblivion… it was almost too much, and falling off the precipice was looking increasingly appealing.

She was going to explode if she didn't make an effort to relieve the tension that was centred in her groin and spreading like a forest fire everywhere else, and Brennan suddenly felt compelled to reach beneath the waistband of her pajamas to prevent it from escalating any further. She gasped when Booth seized her wandering hand, pinning it behind her head before she had gained a modicum of respite from his all-too-pleasurable assault, and - almost as if he could sense the intensity of her glare - he glanced up from between the valley of her breasts, offering her a disarming smile. She sighed aggrievedly, and he started to laugh as he kissed his way down her stomach, taking a moment to explore her navel with his tongue.

And then, finally, she felt his hands tugging on the waistband of her pyjama pants, and she eagerly lifted her hips to aid in their removal. Clad in nothing but her underwear, her eyelids fluttered shut as her partner's hands were compelled to explore new territory, caressing the length of her legs with typical reverence. She smiled when he placed a soft kiss on each of her knees, but then a primal part of her acknowledged that he was gradually moving upwards and her legs started quivering uncontrollably. She jerked a little in surprise when he reached her inner thighs, maddeningly close to where she wanted him the most, and her hips began undulating of their own accord as he stroked higher… and higher. When he finally cupped her sex in his burning hand, it was with expert precision, and the pressure of his palm pressed firmly against the length of her was enough to elicit a moan of approval. However, it still wasn't enough to alleviate the ache of longing that was gnawing at her senses, and she bucked against him until he began to stroke her deftly through the fabric of her underwear, his fingers manipulating her throbbing mound with practised ease.

"Mmm… fuck… _fuck,_" she murmured as Booth hastily disposed of her panties, and she heard her partner suck in a breath as he absorbed the possibilities of that ineloquent profanity. He finally seemed to recognise that she couldn't endure his luxurious caresses any longer, and Brennan's whimper echoed in conjunction with Booth's growl as his fingers skilfully slipped between her slick folds. He took time coating them in her unprecedented wetness, and then suddenly her lips were pursing and her eyelids were flickering and his calloused thumb was doing indescribable things to her pulsating clit. Brennan was laughing, and gasping, and writhing as though she was possessed, but when she felt the searing heat of her partner's lips pressing against her pubis in an all-too-intimate kiss - she froze.

Booth could smell his partner's arousal and her musky scent was so intoxicating that he could barely contain his compulsion to taste her. Hell, he wanted to drown in her. Brennan's shapely legs were parted to accommodate his roving hand, and he abandoned his position besides her in favour of kneeling between them, careful to ensure the pace of his fingers didn't falter as he manoeuvred himself to his new vantage point. His partner's eyes were closed so she was blind to the rapturous expression that lit up his face as he greedily drank in the sight of her pink, glistening sex, wanting nothing more than to explore it with his tongue. He never anticipated that the kiss he placed over her trim thatch of auburn curls would leave her rigid with tension… at least, not tension of the detrimental kind. Maybe there had been a modicum of truth in Dennison's convoluted cock-and-bull story after all.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, and something inside him constricted when Bones flinched away from his probing gaze, her glazed eyes welling with unshed tears. He continued to caress her inner thighs with one hand, using the other to cup her chin and compel her attention. "You don't get to shut me out, Bones. Not here. Not like this," he said softly, bringing his lips to rest against her forehead in a tender kiss. He tried desperately hard to prevent the disappointment from registering in his tone as he hastened to reassure her, "And it's… it's OK, you know? If you don't want me to…"

"I do," Brennan choked out, but how could she even begin to tell him that was precisely what had caused her to panic in the first place? "I just… I've never… it makes me feel…"

"Too exposed?" Booth ventured, his gut wrenching at the sight of his invariably articulate partner stumbling over her words. Brennan glanced at him sharply, before ducking her head slightly in what he presumed to be acknowledgement.

"Bones, you don't… you don't ever have to hide from me, OK?" Booth assured her, and her shimmering azure eyes flitted over the planes of his face before finally seeking out his expectant gaze, making it clear that she concurred with both his statement and his intent.

"OK," she breathed, and the soft smile that lit up Booth's face did little to belie the significant darkening of his eyes. He kissed her then, with sweet relentlessness, and the knowledge that his talented mouth would soon be concentrating its attention elsewhere left her reeling with anticipation. Booth worked her flushed and agitated body into a frenzy on his way down, sucking at her pulse point, and then her throbbing nipples, scratching his stubble against the smooth skin of her stomach… and then his tongue was tracing intimate patterns along her inner thighs and he was easing one of her wobbly legs over his shoulder, mumbling avidly about how long he'd been yearning to taste her. And then he did, and time seemed to stand still.

Booth's breath was ragged, and he blew the damp heat of it over her sex, tantalising every nerve ending in his vicinity. He lapped at her juices tentatively at first, savouring her essence, and then he was drinking her in as though his thirst could never be quenched, lips grazing and sucking, tongue swirling and flicking. He circled the outline of her opening, and Brennan paid little thought to suffocating him as she pressed her sex unrepentantly against his mouth, hoping he would accept the invitation. She virtually screamed when his rigid tongue finally found sanctity inside of her, licking her inner walls with unyielding enthusiasm as his nose unceremoniously bumped against her throbbing clit. His moans of unadulterated pleasure vibrated through her, and she gasped when the impact of pure sensation came dangerously close to shattering her. Her leg was in constant motion against Booth's back, quivering in time with his increasingly frenetic strokes, and she knew she was on the verge of reaching something unattainable.

"Booth…" she sobbed brokenly, and her desperate cries increased in intensity when her partner's ministrations came to an abrupt halt. Booth was regarding the tears streaking down her cheeks with concern, but she pushed him away when he started to reach for her, fisting her hands in his hair and forcing him to return to the task at hand. "Don't stop," she begged frantically, "Don't you dare stop."

"It's OK, I'm not going anywhere," Booth whispered, reaching out to clasp her hand as he once against buried himself between her legs, setting a pace that was markedly more indolent so she could regain some semblance of composure. Her knuckles nevertheless turned white as their fingers entwined, and for one horrifying moment, she thought her vice-like grip had been too painful, because Booth extricated his hand far more quickly than she'd anticipated. She mourned the loss, but only momentarily, because her ability to form a cognizant thought was instantly stolen from her when Booth suddenly abandoned his reserve and sucked her clit rhythmically into his mouth. She was provided with a jarring insight into his hand's new location when he eased two of his thick fingers inside of her, and the maddening hysteria threatened to take hold all over again when he began pumping at a rhythm that somehow - despite her erratic writhing - managed to perfectly match the one he had established with his mouth.

"You are so goddamn beautiful Bones," Booth gasped out as he surfaced for air, briefly seeking out her gaze, and it was the look of wonderment in his molten brown eyes that ultimately sent her careering over the precipice as he latched back onto her. It was, unequivocally, the most intense orgasm of her life; the buzzing in her ears was deafening, her heart seemed to be pounding inside of her head, and little black dots were inexplicably dancing in front of her burning eyes. Booth's fingers were still moving inside of her as she pulsated around him, and it only served to enhance the exquisite sensation. She felt an exhilarating weightlessness that was not dissimilar to her experience in the so-called 'vomit comet,' and the sentiment she had expressed at the time – namely that she would very much like to do that again, was even more befitting in this scenario. After being sent orbiting into the stratosphere, a part of her was terrified of falling back down to Earth, but when the spasms of consummate satisfaction finally subsided, Brennan was far from feeling like a hollow shell. In fact, she felt full - brimming with some hitherto undiscovered emotion - and she bit her trembling lip when it insisted on finding an outlet in a fresh onslaught of tears.

Booth scooped her effortlessly into his arms, and she clung to him feebly as he planted tender kisses over her sodden face, smoothing back her hair and reeling off a never-ending stream of platitudes about how much she meant to him. Brennan had never felt weak in her own bedroom before, and a part of her wanted to be outraged on principle, but instead she simply felt… loved. She allowed her partner to cradle her against him, soothing her with a gentle rocking motion until her composure was fully restored, but Brennan quickly discovered that - despite having been so recently satiated - that all-consuming ache was still on a quest to overpower her. She took in a deep, cleansing breath, and her newfound resolve manifested itself via the predatory glint in her eye.

"You're still wearing your clothes," she observed matter-of-factly, wasting little time in reaching for Booth's belt-buckle and deftly unfastening it. She was both surprised and impressed that her partner's arousal hadn't diminished whilst he was attending so assiduously to her needs, and her fingertips teased their way across his torso in a visceral reward. She should have been physically exhausted and emotionally drained, but the thought of her partner moving inside of her was the only pick-me-up Brennan required. She quickly decided to invest every last vestige of her energy in the hedonistic task of making Booth climax with as much intensity as she had.

"Take your jeans off," she commanded, and Booth bucked against her as she unfastened his zipper, her fingertips glancing tantalisingly over his groin.

"Bones, we don't… we don't have to do this tonight," he ground out, although his outward display of courtesy was belied by the sizeable protrusion in his pants.

Brennan started to laugh, tugging his jeans over his ankles and throwing them to the floor. "Booth, if you can do that to me with your mouth, I can only imagine what you're capable of doing to me with your dick, and I'm not prepared to deny either one of us that kind of pleasure."

Booth's mouth dropped open in surprise, although his gape didn't quite reach its full force because Bones chose that particular moment to attack him with a blistering kiss. They were so well matched in their game of give and take, and their tongues duelled with effortless grace. This time, however, it was without an iota of fear or apprehension, just pure, unadulterated need. All of their misgivings had been forgotten in the face of their undeniable chemistry, and now they had reached a heady plateau of acceptance, because when someone has the capacity to permeate every aspect of your life and change it inexorably… when someone shatters all of your illusions about what you had before and shows you something even better; no matter how much you try to talk yourself out of it… no matter how reluctant you are to admit the inevitable… you have to concede that you've made a connection that can never be surpassed.

Booth felt a cool rush of air wash over him as his partner eased his boxers over his raging erection, and Bones' gasp of appreciation only served to make him harder. He allowed her to push him into a prostrate position and groaned when she straddled him, rubbing her lingering wetness against his stomach whilst he aimlessly palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples that little bit harder because it caused her to grind even more frantically against him. Brennan leaned forwards then, seeking out his panting mouth, and the intensity of their kiss reached fever pitch when her movements caused his dick to nestle agreeably between her legs. Their torsos melded seamlessly together as they essentially began dry humping… except it was wet, so gloriously wet. They swallowed each other's moans, and Booth tried desperately hard not to lose himself in the moment… if he was on the brink of exploding from simulating the act, how the hell was he going to maintain control when he was actually inside of her?

Finally, Brennan rolled off him, apparently having some control issues of her own as she collapsed onto the centre of the bed, breathing raggedly. After a moment's respite, she turned to face him, stroking his cheek with surprising tenderness, and he pressed a chaste kiss against her palm, lazily stroking her arm. They grinned at each other, woozy with anticipation, but Brennan's shimmering eyes widened as they roved downwards, still overawed by the magnificence of his manhood. She inwardly vowed never to make another remark about his belt buckles overcompensating for his shortcomings again.

Booth was already glossy with pre-ejaculatory fluids and the remnants of her own arousal, so Brennan lubricated her hand with their mutual juices before sliding it up and down his significant length, creating an easy friction. He seemed to vibrate at her touch, so she swiped her thumb experimentally over the head of his swollen cock, smiling appreciatively when he jerked and quivered in response; watching his muscular thighs spasm with empathy. Fellatio wasn't something that had ever appealed to her before, but she was sorely tempted to taste her partner with as much veneration as he had tasted her. She wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when he stopped her head from dipping downwards.

"Fuck no, Bones, you're gonna make me come," Booth grunted, and Brennan's hand promptly stilled against him. Their eyes locked, and he offered her a rueful grin. "You make me crazy, you know that?" he informed her, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple. He turned on his side, hovering over her, captivated by the emotions swirling in her crystal clear eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were parted; her expression was appealingly open and focussed entirely on him. He felt blessed to be able to see Bones in all of her vulnerability, and he knew that even when this level of intimacy became familiar, it would never lose its novelty. "I love you," he whispered, with frightening intensity, but to her credit, Bones didn't look scared. She blinked up at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then her face lit up in a beaming smile that was dazzling in its uncomplicated beauty.

"I love you, too," she declared, her voice a mixture of surprise and wonderment, and Booth started to laugh when she quietly reiterated the sentiment to herself, almost as if she was trying to become accustomed to saying it. "I really do," she said with added conviction, her fingers trailing the length of his torso as she bent to whisper in his ear, "And I can't keep my hands off of you Booth, so please, if you're going to come… come inside of me."

Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning, and the current ripped through what was left of his self-restraint. "Bones… do you… I mean… do we need to use…" he gestured in the region of her bedside drawer, and she shook her head.

"No, Booth. I take oral contracep-" she trailed off abruptly as Booth once again filled her vision, and this kiss was different from all the others; this kiss was everything combined. Loving and savage… tentative and probing… pliant and demanding… tender and passionate… hot and quenching… it was everything her partner had to offer all rolled into one, and Brennan was already arching off the bed in appreciation.

"Bones, look at me," Booth pleaded, and she wrenched her eyes open; his doting gaze penetrating her more deeply than his dick ever could. He scooped her into a partial embrace and gently parted her legs, and she was amazed that he felt the need to sample her wetness, check her readiness, when every fibre of her being was begging for him. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and braced her weight on her elbows so she could watch him ease into her. After such an agonising build up, she wasn't expecting him to torture her, but he insisted on guiding the length of his dick back and forth against her clit, sliding through her slick folds until her head lolled back under the oppressive weight of anticipation. Booth wound his fingers through her hair and supported the base of her neck with his hand, loath to lose eye contact, and then his free arm was lifting her hips to enhance his access. He entered her agonisingly slowly, allowing her to become accustomed to his size, and if her intense gaze didn't adequately convey her approval, her ragged gasp certainly did.

The feeling of fullness – of completion - quickly returned, and they began to rock against each other in a timeless rhythm, only it was more effortless than either of them had imagined. Brennan was accustomed to sex being hard and fast, but Booth only had to shift a fraction of an inch within her to elicit a far more potent response. Her moans were increasing in volume and frequency as their hips rolled in perfect synchronicity, and she couldn't prevent her eyes from fluttering shut when Booth finally unleashed some of his intoxicating power; allowing his painstakingly shallow thrusts to become deeper and more forceful. She mumbled her approval when he suddenly flipped them over, allowing her to take control, but he clearly didn't expect her to be quite so assertive and he hissed in acute surprise when she immediately impaled herself on him.

Booth plunged her depths more deeply than any other man had before, and Brennan let out a keening whimper as his thrusts upwards became her thrusts downwards, joining them together along a fault line of seismic arousal. She leant forwards, knowing he could take her weight, and their overheated skin fused together as she fisted his hair in her fingers and kissed him with a zealous ferocity. The newly acquired angle was almost too exquisite - Booth was everywhere all at once - and Brennan collapsed against him, burying her head in the crook of his shoulder and licking feebly at the salty beads of sweat she found there.

Booth continued to pound into her with almost strategic precision, and she could feel her walls tightening around him as her stomach muscles started to contract with pleasure. He was sporadically kneading her ass to heighten the sensation, and their bodies were slick with perspiration as they writhed together as one frantic unit. Their moans and gasps created a cacophony of sound that reverberated around her apartment, but Brennan was far beyond sparing a thought for her neighbours.

When the bliss became too much to bear and her ragged breaths became heaving sobs, the hands that had been lovingly caressing her spine wrapped around her in a protective embrace, always quick to comfort.

"It's OK, I've got you," Booth whispered, directly into her ear, and then, before she knew what was happening, Brennan was lying on her side and her partner was penetrating her from behind, still holding her tenderly against him. His lips began to nuzzle her neck and the arm that was trapped underneath her somehow managed to find the leverage to reach her breasts. His knuckles bumped against her hardened nipples and Brennan's eyes rolled back in her head when he began lightly tweaking the straining peaks, mimicking a sucking motion. Her tongue snaked out to moisten her parched lips, and then they promptly pursed back together again.

"Booth… so fucking good… don't stop…" she gasped, and she jerked so violently when her partner's thumb found her clit that he momentarily slipped all the way out of her. Her cry of protest rapidly evolved into a whimper when he promptly filled her again, and then one hand was expertly manipulating her clit whilst the other kneaded her heaving breast. It was more than she could have asked for and everything she had ever wanted.

"Let it go, Bones," her partner commanded, his warm breath caressing her neck. And, because Booth was one of the few people who she deigned to listen to, she did.

Brennan didn't think her ravaged body would ever be able to emulate the intensity of her earlier climax, but her orgasm seemed to be consuming her whole, assaulting every single one of her senses until she temporarily forgot how to breathe. Her pulsating walls clenched around her partner's cock, and Booth seemed to vibrate inside of her, his embrace becoming almost crushing in its intensity. Then he jerked against her without his customary finesse, and when he unleashed a guttural noise that was vaguely akin to a roar, Brennan realised that he was freefalling, too. She ground against him in a bid to prolong the sensation and, several seconds later, there was another rush of warmth between her legs as he spilled his seed inside of her.

They could only cling limply to each other for several minutes afterwards, and it took even longer for their shallow breathing to gradually reach an even plateau. Booth used his last vestiges of energy to pull back the bedcovers, and Brennan once again found herself snuggling contentedly against his shoulder. They spent a long time trading lazy caresses, until Booth rolled onto his side and regarded his partner with dancing eyes and an impish smile. "So, what do you reckon, Bones?" he enquired, lightly tickling her ribs until she batted his hands away. "Did we break the laws of physics?"

It was scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space, but as Brennan inched a little closer to her partner, settling her head against the pillow they had wordlessly agreed to share, she was willing to concede that an intense emotional connection could sometimes result in the illusion of two people becoming one. Tonight, on some level, she had become conjoined with Booth, and the experience had been momentous enough for her to realise that she would do anything to prevent their separation. She reached for her partner's hand, regarding their entwined fingers pensively, and then she offered him a radiant smile.

"Yes, Booth…" Brennan softly acquiesced, "I think that what we just did could reasonably be construed as a miracle."


End file.
